In Your love, this same lane that's shaded,
It began echoing Your song, filled with cadence,
And with untold bliss.
You don't want anything, You just go on giving;
Good or bad traits unseen, the moon doles out beams.
The nectar of my bud trickles overflowing,
Cordial reception, the one mode of worship.
The termination of this lane, nobody knows;
And where it had begun, imagination does not go.
Who is its Creator, Who is its make-up artist,
And even what's the reason for Liila making it?
It began echoing Your song, filled with cadence,
And with untold bliss.
You don't want anything, You just go on giving;
Good or bad traits unseen, the moon doles out beams.
The nectar of my bud trickles overflowing,
Cordial reception, the one mode of worship.
The termination of this lane, nobody knows;
And where it had begun, imagination does not go.
Who is its Creator, Who is its make-up artist,
And even what's the reason for Liila making it?
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Did the world change, or was it my mentality? A day comes when all environs seem to sing His glory.
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