Aren't Thou the splendor of the moonlight that shines forth in the sky on a full moon night?
Aren't Thou the spring night that arrives in a lovely, fragrant, flowery palanquin?
O Mother, aren't Thou the beautiful sound that awakens in the gentle strings of the tambura?
Aren't Thou the lyrical poems in which the imagination of the poet is sporting (swinging)?
Aren't Thou that One in which the seven colours and the seven notes have merged? Aren't Thou the fragrance of the flower, the beuty of the rainbow and the colours of the breeze?