O little mouse, why dost thou cry
While merry stars laugh in the sky?
Alas! alas! my lord is dead!
Ah, who will ease my bitter pain?
He went to seek a millet-grain
In the rich farmer's granary shed;
They caught him in a baited snare,
And slew my lover unaware:
Alas! alas! my lord is dead.
O little deer, why dost thou moan,
Hid in thy forest-bower alone?
Alas! alas! my lord is dead!
Ah! who will quiet my lament?
At fall of eventide he went
To drink beside the river-head;
A waiting hunter threw his dart,
And struck my lover through the heart.
Alas! alas! my lord is dead.
O little bride, why dost thou weep
With all the happy world asleep?
Alas! alas! my lord is dead!
Ah, who will stay these hungry tears,
Or still the want of famished years,
And crown with love my marriage-bed?
My soul burns with the quenchless fire
That lit my lover's funeral pyre:
Alas! alas! my lord is dead.
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The emphasis placed upon the pinnacle capability are the pinpoint inclinations that bring the meaning to life, it feels as if the reader steps into another realm, that of a creative motive formed from a childhood memory. Such a meaning brings youth and wisdom to the forefront by examining loss as a motive for existence. And what is small or insignificant to some people may be a treasure to others. This poems strikes the emphasis on judgement IMO. It is no one's place to look down upon another. Lighthearted, crafty, brilliant.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful creation of 'Nightingale of India'. Thanks. 10++++