Unimaginable grace

(3144)  Kakhano tumi harao na prabhu

Lord, never missing do You go;
By my own defect Yourself I don't see.
With black cloth eyes having covered,
I invite the gloom of stupidity.

The light You ignite, with clouds I blanket;
Calling through rifts in the mist You persist.
I deposit lampblack amid that luster;
With that same cosmetic, unseen You adorn me.

The flowers You attire, like insect I trim;
You are a line gilded, I am death's matchstick.
On Your golden shore I am the sandy grit;
With that soil a green earth You go on making.

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