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{{#seo: | {{#seo: | ||
|keywords=Prabhat Samgiita,Prabhata Samgiita,Prabhat Ranjan Sarkar,Anandamurti,Ananda Marga,contemplation | |keywords=Prabhat Samgiita,Prabhata Samgiita,Prabhat Ranjan Sarkar,Anandamurti,Ananda Marga,contemplation | ||
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</poem> | </poem> | ||
| <poem> | | <poem> | ||
Spring, why does it go out crying? | |||
It | It just keeps on calling me, | ||
And I cannot bear it... | |||
On unfamiliar wind from a land exotic, | |||
Weeping, weeping, calling me, | |||
From far shore of a hundred seas. | |||
So many days, they come and leave... | |||
Alas, Lord, there's no end to that calling. | |||
Sitting all alone, I consider inwardly: | |||
In what manner do I make it cease? | |||
Sitting | |||
I | |||
</poem> | </poem> | ||
|} | |} |