So he set out to earth to see
The Lord's favourite in person.
He found nothing unusual,
No Aarati, no naamajapam.
The farmer got up in the morning
After bath, poured water at the foot
Of the tulsi, saying 'Naarayana! '
And proceeded to his field.
All day in the field he works
Tired as a log, home he returns
Before going to sleep, again utters
folding his hands, 'Naarayana'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem