You are the King of Kings, in sweetness steeped;
You have no peer.
Mid perfume in fruit and bloom, as a bud appearing,
Consciousness Personified, sense everlasting.
In gemmed necklace of thinking, the One befitting love,
An enduring treasure, with hearing's essence of ambrosia.
Ever golden in sustained contemplation,
The modulation of inmost feelings.
You're the jingling sound on lute strings;
You are Pranav sounded by the Cosmic Puppeteer...
The quintessence that's all-pervading,
Import of intellect's surmising.
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You break every mold with the purest of pure gold.
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