Without the Dear One, my home is
Without the Dear One, my home is
a void,
Does there dwell some one who would take
me to my Lord?
On such a one, my body and soul I
shall bestow.
For His sake, I ‘wander from forest to
forest,
Adopting the Yogi's dress.
The date of meeting is past, even today
you are not come.
The very hairs on my head are grown grey.
Mira’s Lord, when will ‘He’ meet her,
Now that the town of the king she has
given up?
Pray, some one, convey to Him, my
Pray, some one, convey
to Him, my
message to come.
The glad tidings to
come, the happy news
to come.
Neither comes He nor
sendeth any news.
He hath acquired the
habit to torment me.
Alack, howsoever I
plead, these eyes came
not for my reproach.
Flow they as the streams
in the rains.
What can I do, it is
beyond me.
The wings I do not
possess, wherewith to
fly o'er to Him.
Prays Mira, when will
you meet her?
Fallen a victim is she
to Thy snares.
Writer
– Bankey Behari
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