Dearest, -may I have such wish,
Like a running river Your bliss,
In my retreat, in my pilgrimage,
An anchored Will of your grace.
The hands will be busy in plucking flower,
The eyes would bear Your Majesty’s profile,
The feet would travel, the doors of marvels,
And the heart would hold your Divine image.
The tongue would breeze, your name’s music,
And the ear would hear your silent voice,
Nothing but You, would remain as constant trace.
Remake, rebuild, and reform,
The habit oriented conventions and norms,
And unfold the realm of Vast Unconscious,
Retaining therein Your Divine touch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem