Into the illusive garden of my mind,
who are You who came?

Looking at You, it seems to me as though I recognise You,
even if You did not introduce Yourself.

In my mental garden,
a lot of weeds had accumulated.
There were mountains of thorns,
and there was no fresh breeze.
There was only muffled air and the desire for matter.
You removed it all and brought decorations.

The mind that was capable of passing through the heavenly garden,
and creating a golden bracelet,
had been covered by darkness.
Though full of dirt,
You placed it onto the chariot of effulgence.