Awake, O hero! Shake off thy vain dreams,

Death stands at thy head - does fear become thee?

A load of misery, true though it is - This Becoming (The wheel of constant birth and death, hence the world.) - know this to be thy God!

His temple - the Shmashn (The cremation-ground.) among corpses And funeral pyres; unending battle -

That verily is His sacred worship; Constant defeat - let that not unnerve thee;

Shattered be little self, hope, name, and fame;

Set up a pyre of them and make thy heart

A burning-ground.

And let Shym (The Dark One, Kali.) dance there.

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A SONG I SING TO THEE.

(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 (Purusha and Prakriti together.), 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.

The eye looks out upon the universe,