(1400) Nijer chanda hariye phelechi
I have lost my own tendencies;
I long to dance in Your rhythmic beat.
With me is no familiarity, language, or melody;
Notwithstanding, I sing praise of Your qualities.
Unexpressed was my sense of God's proximity,
His felt-or-unfelt touch in each cell of my being.[1]
One and all lie on the outskirts of Your feet;
Therefore, to those feet I offer my submission meek.
I came, bringing not a thing attached to me;
Having added naught to my coffer, I will leave.
In spite of any vice that is mine, from me let it be
I place around Your neck virtue's wreath.
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My everything is Yours, and You are my everything.
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