Tuesday, May 14, 2019


(1332)  Jharna tartariye nace

The waterfall skips rapidly,
Having painted a silver streak
Across the hills and into forest.

To no proscription does it pay heed;
By the roadblocks it is never stymied.
With cheerful notion does it speed
From the heights to below the trees.

Lord Shiva's matted hair set free
With a great impetus for descending,
All along the way, blithe and lively,
It craves liberation in love's tears.

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