The Shepherd’s Bansuri and Love

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My Bansuri hums your melody...
The breeze sways, the meadow sighs.
Though you're far from the Govardhana hills I see,
when I think of you, my sweet girl—
who lives in the quiet of my heart—
my soul walks the fields to find you,
and the horizon glows with your light.

I remember sunlight on the river Yamuna's bend,
where we sat, hands close, time without end.
The sky was wide, the world was still,
and all my heart began to fill
with songs that only you could hear,
played soft beneath the grazing deer.

Your name, though never spoken aloud,
whispers in the wind—
echoing through leaves and grass,
drawing the cows close,
their eyes gentle, their steps slow, listening...

The bells on their necks chime soft and low,
like echoes of joy from long ago.
They circle near as if they know
the love in every note I blow.

The herd gathers.
My flute sings again.
A golden hush hangs over the glen.

I sit beneath the ancient Kadamba tree,
its shade a cradle for memory.
The clouds drift slow across the blue,
and every thought returns to you.

In the hush of dusk, when light turns thin,
I feel your smile rise from within.
Each note I play, each breath I send,
is a wish that someday you’ll return again.

And somewhere in the hush,
my thoughts drift again—to you,
in soft drops of memory,
falling like dew on the pasture...
while the cows listen,
and the hills remember.

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