A bird, struck by fate, alone weeps,
Weeps for the hour of union, weeps.
Slowly, the moon unfurled its net of light,
Gently, the breeze caressed the blooms of night.
When waves danced, kissing the shore with grace,
Then, swaying, the night, in the moon's embrace,
Poured forth its hues.
A bird, struck by fate, alone weeps,
Weeps for the hour of union.
A star of a mad heart's hopes fell, shattered and done,
From the pilgrim of love, hope's veil had run.
From the pilgrim of love, hope's veil had run.
Sweet moonlight came, a bride at heaven's gate,
A chakora, parched for ages, crazed by the state.
When passed, when passed, that night, he knew not where,
The fool, wandering, weary, crushed by a dream so fair,
A dream of silver.
A bird, struck by fate, alone weeps,
Weeps for the hour of union, union's hour.
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