Myself You cherish;
I know it, but no one perceives.
My provisions on the path of journey,
Rather than that be not, You go on giving.
In the gloomy dark a lantern You kindle;
You pour nectar on a heart afflicted.
For all urges everyone's Surabhi,
Off at a distance never do You leave.
I go on blundering, myself You punish;
You infuse only beneficial rhythm.
On my head the diadem, it is only Thee;
Never at any time fallen off You be.
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You are the provisioner and tillerman of my ship.
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