Please accept my humble obeisances at your lotus feet.
Oh beloved and merciful Śrīla Ācāryapāda, the dust of your lotus feet is sanctifying all that is. Not a single word, nor a verse, nor any poetry emanating from my polluted being is worthy for your glorification. In this dark blindness and the perplexity of my mind, I’m trying to remember every motion and transcendental sound originated from your lotus mouth. This is the shelter and the treasure that everybody is hankering for.
Your presence is just like a cloud over the desert and the rain of your merciful glance appeases the thirst of the thirty; whenever this cloud leaves to go on its eternal and lovely task, my life then pushes me to wander and once again my hope is lost.
You are non-different from Kṛṣṇa, therefore to get your benedictions is the goal of human life, but what will I do to be worthy of that? The conclusion is that I’m lost...
HARE KṚṢṆA HARE KṚṢṆA KṚṢṆA KṚṢṆA HARE HARE / HARE RĀMA HARE RĀMA RĀMA RĀMA HARE HARE.
Your eternal servant,
Govinda Priya Dāsa