O Lord, You remain in hundreds of forms and flow. Within the mind, morning evening, you
are engrossed in sound of flute. Whenever I go to the waters of river Yamuna’, Your
flute sound surrounds me and calls me roaming, what an illusive game, liila’, You go on
performing? My mind does not engage in domestic jobs. I do not know what an attraction is
this? The flag of mental affection in the firmament of mind, You have flown.