World is nothing
But it is our thought.
We are here, it is our world,
And we think, it is our pleasure,
It is our pleasure, as we think
Ourselves charming and beautiful.
It is our world and we are here,
Who is there to say we are
Filthy and impure.
No, never, it is not.
It is only our thought
For which we are here.
The mountain, the river
The clouds, the fire
The sky, the air all are here.
All these are nothing but our thought.
We are living on our thought,
And we are not living because of our thought.
And rest, is not true,
I know, ans it is known to You.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem