(Photo by Kristen Wyman)
A nightingale sang every night,
A song for her beloved.
Her love every night grew deep.
For her Love, everyday she weeps.
Her fellows mocking say-
“Dear your love, purely a vain;
for you there’s not a gain.”
She, on Moon her gaze-
“True love, no loss or gain,
mere sweet suffering and beautiful pain.
No care take I, that you don’t know me.
No care take I, that I am not the one you see.
I still adore you,
In every way, every hue.
Charming gentleman, prince of many hearts.
Charming gentleman, king of many arts.
God, if there, do me a favour,
Let my beloved shine this way, forever”
Love, though requited; pleases each one,
though he be beast, bird or human.
(Pallavi D. Patel)