You made me to burn for quite a while in a sense of shame and self-negation.
The silence of night spoke to me in whispers of your quiet denial.
The morning opened its heart in songs of pain and separation.
The sky loomed over my heart with a grim and crabbing air of your hope.
But all this was a play to you, my King.
You pretend to be inactive when actually it’s you who do all the action.
You start the drama of meeting and separation for your pleasure, for, you know the end of it, but we humans, unable to comprehend your divine ploys, wriggle in pain and give you fullest delight.