The lamp of hope

I have lit the evening lamp in this
my small hut; It is really the lamp
of hope: this dusk like on so many
past ones, I sit still by the window
looking, into the courtyard, will my
Kanha, black like a monsoon cloud
appear out of the darkness today?

I have swept the dust out of this
my small hut, really, the dust of
distractions, today like on so many
past days; the evening breezes in
as I look anxiously outside: will my
Kanha, black like moonless nights
appear out of darkness today?

I have adorned the insides of this
my small hut, with flowers of best
fragrance: this day like on so many
past ones, I plucked'em finest, from
love's labour, in the garden of life;
I long for my Kanha, when will he
come drive this unreal light away?