(923) Esechile alor srote
You'd arrived on a light-stream,
To be my fountainhead of bliss,
To fill my every pore with amity,
To clear away the gloomy mist.
On a dark-moon night pitch-black,
With Your selfless and Your silent hand,
You held aloft the lamp of faith,[1]
That I might walk, a smile on my face.
I can't ignore all of these recollections,
With heart's lyre this hymn is sung.
Your love is unitary and collective,
New tunes ever to make heard.
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True love is always blissful and universal.
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