(Rendered from Bengali)
A song I sing. A song I sing to Thee!
Nor care I for men’s comments, good or bad.
Censure or praise I hold of no account.
Servant am I, true servant of Thee Both,
Low at Thy feet, with Shakti, I salute!
Thou standest steadfast, ever at my back,
Hence when I turn me round, I see Thy face,
Thy smiling face. Therefore I sing again
And yet again. Therefore I fear no fear;
For birth and death lie prostrate at my feet.
Thy servant am I through birth after birth,
Sea of mercy, inscrutable Thy ways;
So is my destiny inscrutable;
It is unknown; nor would I wish to know.
Bhakti, Mukti, Japa, Tapas, all these,
Enjoyment, worship, and devotion too–
These things and all things similar to these,
I have expelled at Thy supreme command.
But only one desire is left in me–
An intimacy with Thee, mutual!
Take me, O Lord across to Thee;
Let no desire’s dividing line prevent. …
Like to the playing of a little child
Is every attitude of mine toward Thee.
Even, at times, I dare be angered with Thee;
Even, at times, I’d wander far away:–
Yet there, in greyest gloom of darkest night,
Yet there, with speechless mouth and tearful eyes,
Thou standest fronting me, and Thy sweet Face
Stoops down with loving look on face of mine.
Then, instantly, I turn me back to Thee,
And at Thy feet I fall on bended knees.
I crave no pardon at Thy gentle hands,
For Thou art never angry with Thy son.
Who else with all my foolish freaks would bear?…..
(CW. Vol.4- Page 511)