This spring,
into my floral garden,
with songs full of rhythm,
who is that coming to me in private?

All the hundreds of hidden facts of my mind,
I shall narrate to You in person.

O stealer of mind, listen to my shy language,
it has lost and mislaid
all binding threads of rhythm and song.

You came into my floral garden,
into my mental garden.
All songs are sung in my mind only.

O life of all life,
You are the great life.

Whatever songs I rehearsed
throughout my life,
all centre around Your feet and ankle bells.

My everything I offer unto Your feet.
This is the sole desire of my mind.