Posted by Art Of Legend India [dot] Com On 4:10 AM
Terrified am I at the sight of the dark clouds,
I am frightened seeing them.
How these black and yellow clouds rise
Whithersoever I go, the place with water
is surrounded,‘ the earth is all turned green.
She, whose Lord dwells in, a foreign land,
stands, wet, waiting outside for ‘her
Miré’s Lord, is Hari, the. Indestructible,
with Whom she is in genuine love.
Ah! the clouds of Sravana, the heart-
In Srfivana my heart heaves up,
As hears it the approach of Dear Hari.
Come the clouds gathering from all sides.
Shivers the lightning heralding the
approach of rain-bearing clouds.
In tiny drops falls the rain and blows the
fragrant breeze, cool and pleasant.
Mira’s Lord, Giradhara Négara,
The time is arrived for us to sing a
I hear the sound of the approach of Hari.
The heights I climb, 0 friend,
When shall the Dear One arrive.
The frog, the peacock, Papaiya,
And the Cuckoo strike melodious notes.
On all sides Indra rises, and as it rains,
The lightning gives up her modesty.
The earth has assumed ever new fonns,
To meet Indra, its beloved.
Mira Lord is Hari, the enternal.
Pray meet her soon.
Writer – Bankey Behari