O deer eyed one,
why are your eyes full of tears?

You picked up flowers,
you rehearsed your melody,
and yet, He still did not come.

On lips coloured red with betel leaves
why does your voice faint?

Tonight, under the impulse of what disheartenment,
why have you not dressed up in your evening dress?

You have so long been looking at the sky
that the garland on your chignon became loosened.

With each rhythm of specific mandakanta beats,
you do not entertain enthusiasm,
you did not blow your evening conch.