My veritable Mother,
She, Who is crowned by the starry skies.
The folds of Her shawl in turn display and envelope the Cosmos.
Her turquoise saree sweeps the continents, their mountains and plains,
and the deep oceans again and again offer their foaming tribute
to Her Feet.
The fragrance of Her arms fixes the arch of the heavens.
Without looking, She sees everything,
and without questioning, everything is -
in the scope of Her knowledge.
Without motion, She is always moving, tireless,
graciously absorbing those who call,
in the Holy Wind of Her Love.
May She kindly grant to plunge me in Her sublime river,
severing the ropes which moor me to its banks.
My eyes, thousand times blessed, dare scarcely contemplate
Her sovereign countenance,
And when something worthy of Her pleasure came to pass,
It was She who whispered in my heart
