(1533) Upal majhe mahacal tumi
Amid stones the huge mountain are You;
My head bent, Yourself I salute.
Mid heaps of white lilies, the blue lotus,
Oh Lord, You are always marvelous.
There's no end to Your profound wisdom,
With its splendor filling all directions.
Through Your intuition, ever novel waken
Foot-kissing Game-bubbles.
No entrance or exit is there of Your
Bounty-dripping, grand composition.
She who's gotten a jot of Your mercy,
Her I-feeling, it has merged in Thee.
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My identity bursts at Your feet.
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