(354) Prabhu tomar liilar chale
Lord, with Your sleight of hand,
Why do you distract me?
Enough of Your magic I've seen;
Now I look at the Magician.
Beneath Your red lotus feet,
My submissive mind lies prostrate.
Your ready instrument am I made;
Set me to Your work unceasingly.
Days come, and days pass by;
Alas, my life's work has not begun.
Food and pleasure induce idle slumber;
Unobserved slips away the time.
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The purpose of life is realized by observing the Magician, not His magic.
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