My babe, you daughter of another
Your love has been fountain
At my heart’s door, whose business
Is to flow liketh majestic Saraswati
Aeons ago, melting the glaciers of
My frozen heart of dawn liketh
Rising orb to drop of dew;
Aye, across waters I am come
Six hundred yojanas to land of
Occident, but I am the same who at
Your side, your presence the same
To me, your eyes on me — well of
Love, your lips beaming — never dry
With the dampness of my love;
Come to me, my babe, to my poor
heart, rest in the pillow of my breast
Come to me, my babe, take the umbrage
Cast by the bough of my heart
Come to me, my babe, so my heart
Finds its place again, in your Hrudaya