Seeing life through newly opened eyes
Gurudeva has fixed them on the spiritual sky
Lotus flowers, dragonflies, flower mukuts and effulgence
Light and airy water color
Gandharvika and Mahaprabhu in blue
Cleansing mundane dust out of my mind
Knowing whom we’ve got here we faint
Praying to spend the days on the way back to godhead
Listen close to what Gurudeva has said to you
Understand this is the ride on the Goloka express
Gurudeva is taking us to adi rasa
Just say, “I want to board the train!”
Purple hyacinths, white roses, and star gazers in the leis
The fragrance hangs thick and luscious in the air
Take the train from Casablanca going south
Mixing with incense smoke rings purifying every nook and cranny of my mind
Spinning the long and winding without so much care
meeting fundamental friends in the square
laughing, talking finding our way back home
Murkha and I are pedaling along the coast
Watching sufferers eager and ready to host
the memory of sufferer thakura’s ghost
From the natural bridge to the hurricane’s post
Meanwhile Murtha and I round the corner
where I take my leave, Murkha trying to make the most,
goes through the treacherous triangle seeing the mourner
sprints through the car park hearing ratha-bhojana-vrska boast
folds his palms follows the kalarupa to the sandhya
greeted by a beast that about runs him down turning him to toast
soft yellow and gold hiranya kasipu provides a welcome nightdress to relax from such a busy day. Though the gold was the original idea yellow seemed to all to be found. But there under the yellow, hiding under all the shades of yellow, away from all the other yellow was the gold that made it into this from you guessed it, Nrsimhacaturdasi