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{{#seo: | {{#seo: | ||
|keywords=Prabhat Samgiita,Prabhata Samgiita,Prabhat Ranjan Sarkar,Anandamurti,Ananda Marga,longing | |keywords=Prabhat Samgiita,Prabhata Samgiita,Prabhat Ranjan Sarkar,Anandamurti,Ananda Marga,longing | ||
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</poem> | </poem> | ||
| <poem> | | <poem> | ||
Yellow leaves are dropping off; | |||
And, in the bamboo grove, no stir is brought; | |||
without | Alas, without a sound, on the wind they waft. | ||
The moon that was in the heavens– | |||
Where has she gone, now sunken; | |||
And who wants to keep looking for her? | |||
The | That cloud, upon which seeing | ||
Peacocks were all dancing, | |||
To what distant realm has it vanished? | |||
The Unscheduled Visitor | |||
Who'd intoned His song, | |||
His memory floats away, off to kingdom come. | |||
Some remnant of His sweet smile, | |||
A jingling tone did it revive– | |||
It plucks the strings of my heart's lyre. | |||
</poem> | </poem> | ||
|} | |} |