Don’t welcome me,
rather plunder;
conquer me, the timid,
by the might of your heart.
My heart is anxious for you,
but my feet disagree;
I hide myself under colourful clothes
waiting for you.
Bashfulness is my sister-in-law, almost a creeper,
Whenever I approach Shyam, it stands motionless.
I can’t caste straihgt looks
lest someone looks it, too;
so I tame my eyes
full of tears.
