Tis thus that many births have gone to waste
Tis thus that many births have gone to waste.
Forsaking the feet of Hari Lord of life, men have worshipped the feet of others.
Souls foolish, misshapen, listless, unworthy, steeped in the mire of Kali Juga alone.
In praising these, men's throats grow dry: to these are paid more honours than to Hari.
To lay hold on happiness a million schemes are ever laid: of aimless wanderings their feet are never tired.
But such are like the dirty puddle of the roadside: never still till it be dried up.
To free them from their helplessness men make much striving.
O Tulsi, care of heart can never be dispelled, except one know the jewel that fulfils the heart's desire.
Forsaking the feet of Hari Lord of life, men have worshipped the feet of others.
Souls foolish, misshapen, listless, unworthy, steeped in the mire of Kali Juga alone.
In praising these, men's throats grow dry: to these are paid more honours than to Hari.
To lay hold on happiness a million schemes are ever laid: of aimless wanderings their feet are never tired.
But such are like the dirty puddle of the roadside: never still till it be dried up.
To free them from their helplessness men make much striving.
O Tulsi, care of heart can never be dispelled, except one know the jewel that fulfils the heart's desire.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.