Oh! Lord your Maya does not give me up even
When I have given it up. In spite of my
resistance it clings to me and follows me.
Your Maya becomes Yogini to the Yogin. It
becomes a nun to the monk, it becomes a
herald to the saint. It adapts itself to
each according to his nature.
When I climbed up the hill, your Maya too
came up; when I entered the forest, your
Maya too entered behind me.
So the world does not take its hand off
my back even now!
O, Lord of infinite mercy, your Maya frightens
me. O Lord Mallikarjuna, bestow your grace on me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem