(972) Aji nrtyer tale uttal nadatanu
Today, Shiva,[1] with a billowing dance beat,
Pours fragrance of screwpine[2] into a humid breeze.
Governed by that beat, scented pollen is drifting,
Having fashioned such a magical dream.
From what unknown place comes the wellspring?
Mind's peacock prances on a stream of glee.
It bursts into song of passionate greeting,
Dancing even now with rhythmic multiplicity.
Today, on a restless wind, the earth was keen,
Bound by Whose love, I can't conceive.
Who is that Unseen One, that heart-thief?
He has ensnared me in a web of sorcery.
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In this world, with but a shift in focus, we may sense the Lord of Dance.
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