Wondering how and when
You made such a fine touch
On my senses
I struggle to realize
The miraculous nature
Of loving feelings
May be the acquaintance
Grown in the journey of "sansara"
Brought you to my presence
Even at the eleventh hour
Of this life
You exist with me, making me feel
Your fragrance, your breath
And even the rhythm of your heart
Tell me, my love,
Shouldn’t I weep on your shoulder?
When civilization
Makes our distance immeasurable
I hail my destiny
For making this golden encounter
I blame my destiny
For utter delay and bitter-sweet form
D. V. Gallage | දේ. වි. ගාල්ලගේ
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