|
For listening to Your heavenly happy song one ought to enter deep into my
miraculous heart. There pervades the melodious music of Your harmonious
harp. And for having Your vision unobtainable even to the Gods one ought to
enter deep into torrents of my incessant tears; therein You cleanse Your
lotus-like face day and night.
This is Your rest house and this is Your throne – the throne of my
heart. It is the reservoir of tranquility and an embodiment of love. You
enjoyed such peace neither in Your heavenly divine abode nor in the Milky
Sea on the bosom of the Serpent.
I am in unison with the love of Yours; hence am never perplexed by
Your arrival and departure. But You are like a butterfly. You have never
entertained Yourself with the deliciousness of my ambrosial affection,
accommodated in my heart’s lotus, in the three worlds at any time. It is
meet therefore that You cannot but remain all the while inside it.
How can I describe this diversion of love? I have nothing of mine.
In the initial stage I belonged to love. Then I became master of love; and
now only love survives and nothing else. Pressing that love’s lovely cup
with Your lips and embracing it to Your breast You are often immersed in
merriment.
But for this immortal drink how could You have looked after Your
universal kingdom? And was it ever possible for You to remain God or become
Lord without it? |
