Another year, thirst remains,
Another year, we thirst in vain.
May fire consume this monsoon's grace,
Such is the fire of love's embrace,
That burns the body, mind, and soul,
Another year, we thirst and stroll,
May fire consume this monsoon's soul.
Why complain to the world's harsh sound?
No grievance leaves our lips unbound.
We orphaned the fabric of our own,
How long could we wander alone?
If no flowers bloomed, thorns we bore,
If no flowers bloomed, thorns we wore,
Thus we adorned our weary gown,
Such is the fire that burns us down,
That burns the body, mind, and soul,
Another year, we thirst and stroll,
May fire consume this monsoon's soul.
However dark the night of woe,
Its suffering will surely go.
You who gaze with hate, take heed,
Do you know this silent deed?
Do you know this silent deed?
Love's essence holds a secret art,
Love's essence plays a beating heart,
Turning foes to friends, so bold,
Such is the fire, a story told,
That burns the body, mind, and soul,
Another year, we thirst and stroll,
May fire consume this monsoon's soul.
We, in words, contain our ache,
Such skill, our spirit couldn't make.
Why should praise be granted to us?
Who has no skill, no inner fuss?
Praise the one whose art, so deep,
Praise the one whose art, to keep,
Refines the sorrow, makes it whole,
Such is the fire, takes its toll,
Such is the fire of love's embrace,
That burns the body, mind, and space,
Another year, we thirst in grace,
May fire consume this monsoon's place.
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