A Tribute to Śrīla Prabhupāda

My Gurudeva, light of this dark universe,
My only hope is to glorify you.
In this attempt
I call upon your intelligence
To light my intelligence.
Let your words guide my pen, and
Let your eternal presence,
With its brightness,
Illumine my way in the night
Of this existence.

From the eternal abode of the Lord
You have come to this filthy mire,
Whose hoggish men roll about,
And the most defamed you've chosen.
This is your mercy.

Your words, your glances,
Like a miraculous rain,
Wash away the filth,
The arid crust of lust;
And the fever of wanting
To be owners and lords-
This also they extinguish.

Fulfilling Lord Gauraṅga's wish,
Without discrimination you distribute
The contents of the storehouse
Of transcendental love.

Who could imagine?
Erasing the image
Of the aged and vengeful God,
You give us Krsna, Govinda,
The youthful cowherd boy,
The naughty son, the transcendental lover.
And you teach us the perfection
Of remembering Him moment by moment.

Actually,
I know less than nothing about you,
For your heart is surely
An endless treasure chest
Full of the Lord's beautiful pastimes.
The only thing I know, O Gurudeva,
Is that the cooling shine
Of your lotus feet
Can alone make a blind man see.