Did you disappear without
Singing those melodies,
Fizzled in my breath and chest?
Did you go away, without adorning
Those red lotus flowers on you,
Which I plucked for you, from my heart?
I retained for you, a golden string
Made up of my splendid dreams,
And kept vigil for you, to come;
Engrossed in the cloying memories
Of, the charms of your love, so pure.
I have become an echo, resonating like
A strain of music, writhing in pain,
Emanating from the bamboo poles;
When the rampant wind smother them
Wildly, with the pent up passions. Yes,
I have become a tear drop of such an echo!
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