I stay ever yearning; biding time I keep;
The sweetness-coating Heart-Born Lord is churning sweetly.
Pondering and pondering I see that nothing is remaining;
From the sum of all that's formless is this form bereaved.
In one hundred moonbeams whose softness is copious –
A hundred pearl-amulets, unmade their likeness –
Grins at acme of the psyche with innumerous alliterations
Lovesport's cargo brimming of this Sweetheart.
Like floral dust on blue sky He floats with devotion;
A flowing stream of moonlit sandal, He concludes afar.
The sweetness-coating Heart-Born Lord is churning sweetly.
Pondering and pondering I see that nothing is remaining;
From the sum of all that's formless is this form bereaved.
In one hundred moonbeams whose softness is copious –
A hundred pearl-amulets, unmade their likeness –
Grins at acme of the psyche with innumerous alliterations
Lovesport's cargo brimming of this Sweetheart.
Like floral dust on blue sky He floats with devotion;
A flowing stream of moonlit sandal, He concludes afar.
From the formless we come just to get absorbed once more.
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