The colour of your dark - not the depth of my love, cry like the waters of the Yamuna, the ethereal depth of the night, not the reflection of my subconscious.

So deep, whatever is beyond perception..

In that primordial precipice, Thy origin, which dims in thine own image—But within the limits of thy form's infinite reach.

So you are beautiful, you have captured the beauty of the poet's simile.

You are the primordial Image, at your feet I exist in the form of Lord Shiva.

Your power has assured me of freedom from inertia.

So my manhood always wants to sink into your depths.

Your creation under the touch of black clouds.

Your green-colored stream fills the soul with joy.

Alone, you are green and spread in many ways, in new forms.

The saint loves you and does penance, because of your mercy he will get the light of liberation.

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