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.


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