The chillness of midnight has entered;
The mist has settled enveloping the nature
In its shroud of vague images, behind it.
Why can’t the nightingale stop singing and sleep?
Let me close the windows that let the gale inside;
And switch off the fan revolving overhead
Like the swirling passions inside me?
Is it possible to lie down and sleep even
After covering with a thousand blankets, or
Even with a million dreams beckoning me?
When the heart of a bride, envisage and yearn, for
Something beyond the humdrum chores of life.
Let me spread out the lotus petals on the bed;
And slacken off the light from the lantern.
How is that possible to fall asleep without
Scenting the fragrance of my beloved?
Without the enfolding hands embracing
My bosom, in that trance?
These are the livid dreams in the heart of
A maiden, living alone till now
With the cloying hopes of a conjugal life.