The sacred face upon which I try to meditate,
Does not appear in my mind.
The lover’s face upon which I do not meditate,
Appears in my mind clear and distinct.

The bumblebee was born early,
The flower bloomed late,
My lover, who has no faith,
It is too late to be together.

The seasons of flowers has passed,
And the turquoise-colored bee does not moan.
When fate has separated me from my lover,
I should also not moan.

I went to a holy Lama,
And asked for spiritual advice.
But I was unable to change my mind,
So again I drifted to my lover’s side.

Written by H.H. The 6th Dalai Lama (1683-1706 A.D.)