What sort of mind You have,
I cannot understand.

Even after recognising You,
You pretend to forget and ignore me.
I die crying, holding on with inner hope,
that You may look at me with open eyes.

The bough of a mango tree bends with load.
How much quality of politeness it has learnt!
Make me more polite than that,
by giving me the dust of Your feet.

Even should You forget,
that is no harm.
I do not pray for You to keep me in Your mind.
Just keep me close to You.
Do not close Your eyes,
and make me forget the pain that You have given me.