O Chakravaki! What distant melodious
call of a known flute hast thou heard?
O my fugitive Bird!
What lost abode dost thou remember?
What paradise of thy dream?
O my Fugitive!
Tears flood thy unsteady eyes,
Tell, O tell me hat long-lost mother
calleth thee?
There under the shades of dusk from
the distant horizon some deep magic
spell beckoneth thee
Dost thou know who it is? O my wayward one!
Out of the fullness of heart and from the
depths of love it seems to call, Come,
Come, O Come,
Be in my lap, O my tyrant child,
O my fugitive Bird!
The south wind blowing over the forest,
Dose thy mother call thee now by raising
her hand, O Dear?
Dost thou, after all, distinguish thy kin
from one who isn’t thy kin?
So, at the very peep of dawn descends
dusk on my low-roofed house!
The sheaves of paddy, or the secret call of Shyama
Dear! prey, tell me
What startled thee and made thee break thy bonds?
The eyes are overflowed with tears,
Who hath made thee drink Hemlock
. of evergreen tender love?
It seems of a sudden some young hare
startles and cries
‘O Come, come, come
Come, O my dear Child,’
To the forest come back, O thou
Chakrabaki of the wood!
O Fickle Fugitive! . ,
Reading Time: < 1 minute
