
.
When nature slips into sleep steadily in your dainty delicate hands
Surrendering to the deep dumb darkness of the night at this hour, my Lord!
Why do you push this frail, impaired Veena at me bidding to set it and sing ;
I fear the string might snap, tune may fail, or it may not twang at all.
.
I can’t play the Veena like a black cuckoo, its sweet sonorous scores
Hiding amidst the thick Mango foliage of the Spring;
Pray leave me! Contrary, If you render the hymns suffuse with love
Pervading this universe, I will be too happy to subject myself to them.
.
Should you be so insisting that I sing anyway the lyrics of love
You so passionately composed yourself and bestowed upon me ; then,
Sweeten this hushed, empty voice of mine, charging it with your glorious
Ambrosial Grace of compassion; I shall just lend my voice, and render.
స్పందించండి