(511) Eso go prabhu eso mor hiyay
Come, dear Lord, inside my heart appear
With silent feet a welcome to receive
On the route made bright by my yearning.
Those fools, path lost for motes of earth-dust,
Bothered and broken by wine of attachment,
Into their minds, into their invocation,
Come, please come, through grace gratuitous.
There's no one else who is Your equal,
No second moon upon the sky of mind;
In Your ample light and sweet smile,
With alluring flute, You quench our thirst.
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But for the grace of God, even our yearning for Him might not be.
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