By Your grace

(3528) Sahasa anane mor kanane

In my garden with face smiling,
Oh Who's seated lackadaisically?
Please gaze in my direction, look at me.
I have picked flowers, a garland I have strung
To make You wear privately.

I have no virtues to speak of;
Nor have I actional endeavor's splendor.
Through speech there is not thought's ardor;
There is only love in my thinking.

From age to age by the path am I sitting,
Dyed by sweat-soaked memories.
On a stream of consciousness at depths of psyche,
With many a song awakening.  

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