A temple with its deity
Lends beauty and gaiety
To a devotee with piety
At twenty, fifty or eighty
The mortal body is the sanctum clean
The deity within is the soul serene
It is the trustee’s duty prime
To keep the temple from slime or grime
He lights your path while it is dark
As you falter or stray, he cries hark
Your soul is your sole guiding star
That leads you through your journey afar
Before you think, act, meditate or pine
Keep your god ahead in your shrine
Vain are your efforts to boast and shine
In the immanent glory of god’s design
As offering to the god, what would suffice
Prayer, incantation or self sacrifice
He accepts little, the saints proclaim
But gratitude and devotion without any claim
God does not bestow heaven or hell
Where are these havens? None can tell
Our deed or misdeed creates illusion
Borne of ignorance and delusion
In man made temples for the god you search
More often than not, you are left in the lurch
Look for him with your own heart
Illumining your every body part
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem