On a rain-loud night, through wet eyelids,
Watching Your arrival-path, awake I'd been, hey bosom friend.
Outside was a storm, alone had I been seated;
I'd imagined that piercing the fog, Your sight I'll get.
Like fire is Your sacred and profound love;
Having rid mind's filthiness, it rouses splendor.
It expels affliction, far away all fear becomes;
Like a gem-studded jewelbox, upon eyes a tika golden.
There's no day, no moment, no right or wrong time;
Of Your coming-and-going, no periphery do I find.
Stored in You we see everything we desire;
We sense a moonlight fixed amid conscious existence.
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I want Your advent so bad, surely I must witness that.
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