Pinda-dana,
Ashthi-kalasha,
This the story of my life,
My journey through heat and dust,
Bare-footed and naked
And empty-handed,
From here to there,
God knows,
Where the pathway?
Pinda to pinda,
You give the pinda,
Offer to the soul bereaved and departed,
Whom you have not forgotten so far,
Still fresh in memory,
The earth's contact
With the graha-pinda.
The asthi-kalasha containing the ashes
Of the body,
Let it hang for a few days
To be immersed into the holy waters
With the navel of attachment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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