No regrets have I My lord, None. Lord of the Written Word, My light, my sight, My very eyes No regrets, None. Though you stand Where I behold you not My light, my very eyes, Protector of all earthlings I know you sustain me Lord of the Venkata Hill so pure You meet my hunger, my thirst My hope, my prayer You keep me from harm, Lord of the Sparkling Gems, I need naught else Father of the Seven Hills, Naught else.
You stand — do you not? — Veiled by a screen Only the learned can part For they are the learned Which I am not But no, no regrets have I. Crowning this hill You stand as rock Giver of Boons Immutable God Father to these hills No regrets have I Govinda !
In this benighted Age of ours Lord — The worst of all the Four — You have entered The sanctum A shaft of granite Where though I see you not No regrets have I. Boulder of strength With the Ocean, Heaving on your breast, Of the purest compassion — My Mother, My very own, who grants Anything I ask of her Can I possibly have regrets? The two of you, I know, Stand there for me Eternally No regrets have I my Govinda None, none whatsoever Govinda! Govinda! Govinda! Govinda!
No regrets have I
ReplyDeleteMy lord,
None.
Lord of the Written Word,
My light, my sight,
My very eyes
No regrets,
None.
Though you stand
Where I behold you not
My light, my very eyes,
Protector of all earthlings
I know you sustain me
Lord of the Venkata Hill so pure
You meet my hunger, my thirst
My hope, my prayer
You keep me from harm,
Lord of the Sparkling Gems,
I need naught else
Father of the Seven Hills,
Naught else.
You stand — do you not? —
Veiled by a screen
Only the learned can part
For they are the learned
Which I am not
But no, no regrets have I.
Crowning this hill
You stand as rock
Giver of Boons
Immutable God
Father to these hills
No regrets have I
Govinda !
In this benighted Age of ours
Lord —
The worst of all the Four —
You have entered
The sanctum
A shaft of granite
Where though I see you not
No regrets have I.
Boulder of strength
With the Ocean,
Heaving on your breast,
Of the purest compassion —
My Mother,
My very own, who grants
Anything I ask of her
Can I possibly have regrets?
The two of you, I know,
Stand there for me
Eternally
No regrets have I my Govinda
None, none whatsoever
Govinda! Govinda!
Govinda! Govinda!