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Translation BG 11.16: I see Your infinite form in every direction, with countless arms, stomachs, faces, and eyes. O Lord of the universe, whose form is the universe itself, I do not see in You any beginning, middle, or end.
3 Feb 2023 09:36

Translation BG 11.16: I see Your infinite form in every direction, with countless arms, stomachs, faces, and eyes. O Lord of the universe, whose form is the universe itself, I do not see in You any beginning, middle, or end. 

Translation
BG 11.16: I see Your infinite form in every direction, with countless arms, stomachs, faces, and eyes. O Lord of the universe, whose form is the universe itself, I do not see in You any beginning, middle, or end.


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7th HEAVEN ILLUSTRATED Arunoday Kar

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Robert Louis Stevenson Duddingstone With caws and chirrupings, the woods In this thin sun rejoice. The Psalm seems but the little kirk That sings with its own voice. The cloud-rifts share their amber light With the surface of the mere - I think the very stones are glad To feel each other near. Once more my whole heart leaps and swells And gushes o'er with glee; The fingers of the sun and shade Touch music stops in me. Now fancy paints that bygone day When you were here, my fair - The whole lake rang with rapid skates In the windless winter air. You leaned to me, I leaned to you, Our course was smooth as flight - We steered - a heel-touch to the left, A heel-touch to the right. We swung our way through flying men, Your hand lay fast in mine: We saw the shifting crowd dispart, The level ice-reach shine. I swear by yon swan-travelled lake, By yon calm hill above, I swear had we been drowned that day We had been drowned in love. Translation BG 11.16: I see Your infinite form in every direction, with countless arms, stomachs, faces, and eyes. O Lord of the universe, whose form is the universe itself, I do not see in You any beginning, middle, or end. We are but children আমরা যে শিশু অতি amra je shishu oti We are but children, our minds immature At each step, O Father, we slip and fall Why then show us your wrathful form Why the occasional frown Pray, do not be angry with us Tell us gently where we have erred A thousand times you pick us up A thousand times we fall, we fail Such is the lot of the frail The earth is our home It's dust blinds our vision We were born as children And so with dust we play Give us courage O Lord You who are the refuge of the weak Assure us of your presence If we make one mistake Will you never draw us to your lap Will you then turn away And leave us grounded With our consciousness forever veiled Translated by Rumela Sengupta Email This BlogThis! Share to Twitter Share to Facebook Share to Pinterest Category Devotion n Prayer - Puja o Prarthona
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