Saturday, October 8, 2022


(2420)  Kamalanikare sandhyasayare

Mid a throng of water-lilies at twilight's lake,
Whose fragrance keeps on floating?
From close-by, I fancy He's gone faraway;
Eyes catch no sight when places distant going.

It's my imagination: near and far;
Does Your anything arrive or depart?
By the light of intellect, eyes looking I stay;
I fail to consider: Intellect is at Your mercy.

You had come from some beginningless state;
And You keep sailing on a stream of always.
Birth and death, the firmament's horizon,
In my conception, where do they disappear?

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1 comment:

  1. Human intellect can't apprehend its Origin and Destination.