You exist mingled with beautiful forms and flows,
O intimate-most friend.
Yet You do not let me see You.

Having become mad thinking of You,
why don’t You come close?

Whatever I imagine,
whatever is beyond my imagination,
be it stationary or mobile -
You are everything.
In the illumination of ideation,
revealing Yourself to the world,
why won’t You fulfil my hopes?

You are the world and You are heaven,
churning all the seven spheres.
You remain as consciousness in the stream of feelings,
and yet, You do not come.