Sunday, July 12, 2020


(1637)  Andhar nishay tumi diipavalii

On the dark night You are light's festivity,
Oh Beloved... You, my Dear.
In the dense forest, a low-sweet murmuring...

At bosom of dry wilderness, You alone are water's stream...
On the dull and haggard visage, radiant hope-filled beauty.
The defeatist weariness, it gets lost in Thee.

What I do not wish at all, Yourself does it besiege;
And what I do not get at all, in You it is replete.
After giving You what I deserve, then I will be leaving.

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1 comment:

  1. He takes our burdens, our encumbrances; and then He sets us free.