Friday, April 19, 2019


(1310)  Tandra bheunge geche

Broken is my sleep;
Lord, on Your path I will proceed.
The brightness of moonlight
I will sprinkle on the public mind.

I will smear a soothing balm on wretched bosom;
One frustrated I will fill with expectation.
My own self, for the sake of everybody,
I will take and make ready to donate in charity.

Any fog that emerges,
With firm hand I will remove it.
Any grime now gripping mind,
I will purge with bath of light.
Yourself in a lustrous shape,
Every moment I will paint.

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