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3147 (12/09/1985) K


JE KAMAL PHÚT́E CHILO SAROVARE UCCHALA
PRABHÁT SAMIIRE TÁR BHESE ÁSE PARIMALA

BÁHIRE JÁY NÁ DEKHÁ MANANEI THÁKE ÁNKÁ
MANA MÁJHE PHÚT́E THÁKE TRIBHUVANE SE VIRALA
PRABHÁT SAMIIRE TÁR BHESE ÁSE PARIMALA

SATATA UDBHÁSITA SÚRYER PÁNE ÁNKHI
ÁÁ
SATATA UDBHÁSITA SÚRYER PÁNE ÁNKHI
NIYATA JÁGIÁ THÁKE SAORA KIRAŃ MÁKHI
MRIŃÁLE YUKTA HOYE KARDAME NÁHI CHÚNYE
PULAKE HÁSITE THÁKE LIILÁ RASE SE CAPALA
PRABHÁT SAMIIRE TÁR BHESE ÁSE PARIMALA

E MÁN SAROVARA ÁMÁR NÁHI SHUKÁY
ÁÁ
E MÁN SAROVARA ÁMÁR NÁHI SHUKÁY
TÚHINE PUŚT́A HOYE NIDÁGHEO THEKE JÁY
TARAUNGE CHAL CHALA PRIITITE SMUJJVALA
YUGE YUGÁNTARE PAREO SUVIMALA
PRABHÁT SAMIIRE TÁR BHESE ÁSE PARIMALA

JE KAMAL PHÚT́E CHILO SAROVARE UCCHALA
PRABHÁT SAMIIRE TÁR BHESE ÁSE PARIMALA


The lotus that bloomed in the lake overwhelmingly, in this morning breeze, its fragrance
comes floating. It is not possible to see outside, but can be estimated only in the mind.
That lotus, rare in the three world, bloomed in the mind. The eyes are constantly opened
and directed towards the sun. It ever remains awake smeared with the solar rays. Even
after remaining attached with the stem, it does not touch the slime. It smiles with joy of
the restless flow of Your liila’, the divine game. Let this Ma’nsarovar lake of mine
be never dried. Let it flourish with the snow and stay in the sun. Vibrant with the waves,
brightened with the love, let it stay from ages to ages beautifully.


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