Tuesday, June 15, 2021

Otherwise not worth a cent

(1934)  Tomar varata baye jai

I go on carrying Your tidings;
With Your work I keep myself busy.
My everything is on account of You only;
These are the words well-formed I continue singing.

On stellar sky, like mote of dust, I have arrived;
On mental sky, hey my Love, Yourself I've acquired.
My going and coming, my weeping and laughing;
At their root is Your compassion only.

But for You I don't exist– this fact I perceive;
On strings of Your viina, a jangle I bring.
Your champak-touch, gauging scope of novelty,
Having felt that, I proclaim respectful greetings.

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1 comment:

  1. If I could be Your messenger, that would be a life well-spent.