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Dec. 4th, 2009|02:08 pm |
Calcutta City never looked so pretty As that day in 1896 Soft September skies and cool gaslights Horse-drawn hackneys travelled quick In a mud-walled shack beneath a leaning jack friut tree You took your birth No common boy who would play with toys One astrologer saw your worth At seventy he`ll cross the sea And plant a barrel soil The seed of bhakti so Krishna shakti Can inundate the world Srila Prabhupada we didn`t know you When would you come at last? In Maya`s clutches without so much As promise from our darkened past You shone the light, took away the night And neatly rearranged us Hell-bound dogs turned devotee cogs When you changed us You kindly changed us
(Rudradeva das, 1995) |
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