I'm calm in division. Gentle in worries. Kind in uniformity. Loosening down my cloaks.
I'm wrong in forums. Right in solar arms. Hugging my own boredom. With Truth and life for her armies.
I'm intrigued by depression. Pulled into other's storms. Without the emphasis of beloved. Quelling Calls of Simple Feelings. Don't be Afraid, I too have Fallen.
I'm sort of oratory. As I speak, I whimper. Courage dressed in empty sets of practiced int. Tinted yet still painted and not panting lengthy essays. I'm a winded sage.
Arching time, I am a tenement. A pulley, pulling the soul through time. To restore the operators of an equidistant root. Roots, Lines, and Mesmerizing Lives. Studying and dramatizing secret skies.
May the golden-handed, life-bestowing, well-guiding, exhilarating and affluent Savitri [Asura] be present; for the deity, if worshipped in the evening, is at hand, driving away Rakshasas and Yatudhanas. – Translated by HH Wilso