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Come to me, 0 Krishna, as the Divine Cowherd. |
O Krishna, Lord of Hindustan, I sorrowed by the lonely Jumna river
bank, where Thy flute-notes thrilled the air and led the lost calves
to their homes. O Lotus of Love, musing on the sad absence of Thy
delusion-dispelling eyes, I saw Thine invisible Spirit take form,
frozen by my devotion's frost.
Thy divine form of sky-blue rays, with feet of eternity, walked
on the banks of my mind, planting lasting footprints of realization
there. I am one of Thy lost calves which followed Thy flower-footprints
on the shoals of time. Listening to the melody of Thy flute of wisdom,
I am following the middle path of calm activity, by which Thou hast
led many through the portals of the dark past into the light.
Since all of us are of Thy fold, whether moving, sidetracked, or
held stationary by the fogs of disbelief, O Divine Christ-na, lead
us back to Thy fold of everlasting freedom. O Krishna, Thou reignest
on the heart-throne of each knower of Thy love.
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