O Hari, I am mad with love: none knows my anguish.
My bed is upon the cross: how can I hope for sleep?
My love's bed is in the vault of heaven: how can I hope to find Him?
The wounded knows the wounded's state, or he who caused the wound.
The jeweller knows the jeweller's luck, or he who has the jewel.
Stricken with pain I wander from jungle to jungle, but meet with no physician there.
O Lord, Mira's pain will never cease, till Samvaliya be her physicián.