Classic Poem

He is neither new nor ancient, to Him no corruption clings.
Him no king can slay, O Sahjo, in Him fear can find no place.
Worm can not waste Him nor can He wither, nor can any waters drench Him.
He has no one for protector nor of any is He partner.
Sahjo, He has no form no caste, He has no colour and no body.
He has no friend, no chosen god, no caste, no lineage, no house.
He, Sahjo, is neither born nor dies, He takes to Himself no dwelling place.
In Him there is no night, no morning, in Him there is no cold, no heat.
The fire has no power to burn Him, nor can any weapon wound Him.
The sunlight has no power to scorch Him, nor can the wind sweep Him away.
No mother and no father has He, no family nor house-hold gear.
Sahjo, of poverty. He knows not, nor has He anywhere a throne.
He has no end and no beginning, nor in the middle state is He.
Sahjo, He knows no bound no limit, neither small nor great is He.