The Formless Gem, Master mine,
You are heart-and-soul pleasing.
I did not fathom You, Who You be I knew not well;
I know only that You be virtue's dwelling.
In a non-stop liila where everything goes adrift,
A molecule's minuteness loses self in some Infinite.
Mid both unit and collective, in cognition-garbs one hundred,
Form's beauty You compose incessantly.
Through a dance in cadence and beat, cognition moves ahead;
In a string of waves with lustrous girdle does it swell.
What You go on thinking, who else will understand, tell me do;
Ten million salutations at Your lotus feet!
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