(Puspo diye maro-jare chinlona-se moronke)
Anyone Thou slay using Thy flowers
Does not feel the essence of death
But anybody fallen by Thy arrow
Becomes able to hold on to Thy feet
Any one Thou kill by Thy arrow
Stays covered by the underneath dirt
Virtually lying on Thy very Lap,
Why would he fear for death on dirt?
One, whose wound is shielded by love,
Whose karmic effect is fragrant,
Stay ignorant of Thy angry blissful face
Enabling him to hold on to Thy feet
But the dead in comforting death-bed
Decaying gradually over a period of time
Doesn’t feel the security of shedder tears
Staying far away from Thy blessed feet
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3/10/2015
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