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By Janardan
Deluding Maya, killing every spark
Of true intelligence with ribald jest
Or dry morality, not heeding lest
Their castles built today should turn to dust
As all within this world of matter must.
With bitter sorrow torturing their mind,
At death they’ll have to leave their loves behind
And in their following birth they may not gain
A human body but be forced again
To serve their evolutive prison terms
As helpless beasts, aquatics, plants, or germs
All for not having found, within the span
Of human life the goal reserved for man.
That goal, which having reached, no higher goal
He counts, in which established he can’t fall
Even if most grievous sorrows round him rage
But freed forever from the body’s cage
He tastes the highest pleasures without end.
To that alone if they would only lend
Their mind and senses and inteligence
With single, unswerving, loving diligence,
Then they would drink the nectar of Your grace
And gazing on Your smiling Lotus Face
O Madanmohan, they would be redeemed!
But I am powerless, although I’m deemed
A learned Brahmin—all my arguments
Cannot convince these souls to implement
A plan befitting human status. How
Can I then serve You? All my knowledge now
Is empty wind if it cannot recall
But one of these blind men from Maya’s thrall.
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