High Mountains

The sun peeks out From behind the high mountains, Planting little seedling of light. It crushes the yellow sunshine Into small pieces, Making anklets for the mountain tops! Ankle deep in the wind Flow perfumes, The birds fall asleep. Through a clump of green trees A water channel flows Piping a melody! Seeing the blue lotus In the mirror- like water The drooping leaves weep. The wind has tied Tiny anklets around its feet, And stamps her heels as she walks! Raindrops asleep On soft, tender shoots, Are lit by sunbeams. A tiny, golden bird Calls to the travelers With shrill whistles. In the clear blue sky, A kite circles, Among the rays of light. A flower becomes a drinking station, As it offers droplets of sweet dew To the bees. A butterfly is at the door - The maulsari spreads its fragrance generously, Like alms to a mendicant! In such a season, In the name of your daughters, Cover my pain With a layer of sighs. An old, tired ache Plays guessing games, On the paths of my sight. A sweet, moody separation Breaks over me, And eats into my bones. Unearth a way that I can Meet my beloved, And relieve my longing for a glimpse of her. Bereft of our beloved, We infatuated ones, Are called insane. There is no one here mother, Whom I can call my own, Who will share my pain. At such a time, without my beloved, I cannot spend a moment In your town. The sun peeks out From behind the high mountains, Planting little seedling of light. Crushes the yellow sunshine Into small pieces To make anklets for the mountain tops!