His stick

(659)  Cetanashalaka sathe madhumalika hate

With a stick of consciousness and a wreath of kindness,
How many were the nights that You had come?
Forgotten, oh, I have forgotten.
Tracing salve 'round blackened eyes,
Seeing neither virtue nor vice, when prayed You arrived.

With Your light, the earth has become sweet;
With Your touch, all life has gotten speech.
In Your mirth, the whole world was awakened;
All hearts rose up dancing, each with one another.

Sad and sleepy eyes are dabbed with the nectar of Your stick;
Everyone's warmly invited – Your world will be built.

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