Melbourne

Thy birth was pure, thy thoughts were clean,
Radha and Krsna thou never forgot.
Due to father's kindness thou had thy Ratha,
Thou imitated pūja, and caught from youth
A hatred for gambling, illicit sex, intoxicants, and animal slaughter.
Such a birth is rare in this world.
"Just try to learn the truth by approaching a spiritual master.
Inquire from him submissively and render service unto him."
Thou met thy guru, auspicious day,
And from his feet thou never strayed.
A master beyond death is the guru dear,
Potency sufficient to flood the whole world
By injecting Krsna-katha into every ear.
Such a master is rare in this world.
"Only by the mercy of the spiritual master can one obtain the mercy of the Lord."
There is a terrible land here
Where demons build staircases to the sky,
Where the innocent cow is slaughtered,
And where the citizens constantly cry.
Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Prabhupada, the light of the world,
Seeing the plight of such conditioned souls, wrote
'Please just go there, and try
To water the seed as Caitanya taught.'
Such a request is rare in this world.
"The splendor of the sun, which dissipates the darkness of this whole world, comes from Me."
Bhagavad-gita, the Song of God,
And Srimad-Bhagavatam, the nectarean fruit,
Were brought by thee like the morning sun,
Which rises golden and majestic in the east.
And brings peace from the ghosts of the moonless night.
Such literature is rare in this world.

"O Krsna, I totally accept as truth all that You have told me."
Wonderful times have just begun,
The Mayavadis from the field are running,
Smashed by the book distribution forces.
The public catches up the mighty song,
Thy mace alone appears above the rest.
Such a fight is rare in this world.
"Always think of Me and become My devotee. Worship Me and offer your homage unto Me. Thus you will come to Me without fail. I promise you this because you are My very dear friend."
Thy flag flies beneath the noon day sky,
All nations, all men take shelter
Where no shadow casts its fearful face.
At thy feet they bow and pray,
'Save me, Oh lord, from Yamaraj's sway.'
At thy nod, the kirtana begins-
Drums, karatalas thunderously crash,
Then the voices of billions raised on high,
Hands in the air, a tear in every eye.
Dancing in step, men, elephants, dogs, and even the tree
Sway in the celestial breeze which has brought thee here.
Such a victory is rare in this world.