(547) Rudra tomar uttal tale
Rudra,[1] with your surging beat,
The waters of sea grew fierce.
On withered branch, a bud did sprout;
On dry riverbed, a flood came down.
The garland held by defeated hearts has returned;
Our wicker basket[2] has filled with lost flowers.
To the rhythm and tune of songs long forgotten,
Our psychic lotus swayed the realm of heaven.
Everyone heard the message of novelty;
A new world was fitted with canopy.
Flush with fresh service to society,
Instantly, Earth's cadence was thrilling.
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By His grace, we will make a better world.
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