The light is yours, and so the wind,
Oh, let the flame not cease to burn.
The rough sea yours, the ship within,
Oh, let our lives not sink or turn.
The mountain high, the ground below,
Both are yours, let joy expand.
The shadow cool, the sun aglow,
Oh, let things be as you command.
A thunder there, a cloud up here,
Both are jewels of your grand design.
A bird that sings, a bud so dear,
Both bow to you, a sign divine.
The war cry loud, the Veena’s tune,
Echoes of your presence clear.
An epic vast, a limerick soon,
Both your creations, pure and dear.
(A poem by Shri K S Narasimhaswamy)
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