Except by way of words and rituals
I had not practiced even casually
Anything to contain mind and breath.
As though I was longing for renunciation
I hold serious discussions.
And when I forget all thoughts of it,
I go to sleep.
When I think, I will have to shuffle this body
I swoon in fear, my heart trembling.
Long, long indeed is the distance between
The blissful state of Transcendent Silentness
And this ignorant one.
Knowing the devilish ways of this lowly cur,
Grant Thou a way to contemplation of supreme bliss.
Oh! Thou, the heavenly wishing tree *[1]
That grants all ripe rich boons
To those who enter not the forest of pasas *[2]
Oh! Thou who filleth all visible space
In unbroken continuity!
Thou, the Bliss that is Perfect Full
FootNotes:
[1] A miracle-tree in the world of Indra, the king of celestials, yielding whatever desired.
[2] Pasas: Primal impurities of the soul, three in number:
1) egoity (anava),
2) karma (chain of action and reaction through births) and
3) maya (illusory knowledge)