Dusts from zillion incense sticks of worship rise
Every morn to smear your body with color of sky
where the stars twinkle as your compassionate eye
with the sickle moon dangling as an eternal smile
from blushing cheeks whereto birds of love fly;
breezes of desire toss goddess Tulsi's scented hair
as you grow romantic with consort Lakshmi at dawn
filling the earth and heaven with true bliss of morn
and the waters of Gandaki river play with rippling fun;
the sun of our faith brings you closer in our lives
but the streaming clouds of doubt cover your face
as we sit down to pray under in mist for your grace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem