At the end of the day,
when the moon-land rises,
floating through a beam of moonlight,
I have come close to You.

There is no scorching sun.
My mind is satiated.
My eyes are bright on attaining You,
O auspicious face in my mental sky!

Into the sandal breeze,
into the fragrance of flowers,
You poured all Your love.
Unrestrained, the musical mode of the purva melody, resounds.

High and low,
small and big,
spheres of imagination and the material world,
gain and deprivation,
the minuscule and the vast -
float about from all sides.