O morning sun,
the divine game of Your beauty
makes the ocean overflow restlessly.

The awakening of a mere particle in it
makes millions of nebulae sing in the sky.

O one so skilled in creating forms,
what is this creation of Yours?
With the nectar-filled ocean of love,
You have inundated the world.

Although You are formless,
You have become form,
and in the form of thoughts,
You dance on.

In playing that divine game,
You ave no equal.
You make the world
forever cry and smile.

Even after contemplating You in deep thought,
I fail to make an estimation of You.

I merely came to feel Your touch
and for a wee bit of Your love.