Whose name is Krishna, a whisper on the breeze,
Whose home is Gokul, amongst the sacred trees,
To that Lord of Glory, a divine embrace,
To that Lord of Glory, I bow in this space.
Again and again, my spirit takes flight,
Whose name is Krishna, bathed in holy light,
Whose home is Gokul, a story untold,
To that Lord of Glory, more precious than gold.
To that Lord of Glory, my reverence shown,
Again and again, my heart is His own.
Yashoda's son, a love that won't cease,
Nandaji's joy, bringing utter peace,
To that Gopal, with a smile so grand,
Again and again, I reach out my hand.
He stole the butter, a mischievous treat,
With cowherd friends, their laughter complete,
To that dwelling of play, where wonders reside,
To that dwelling of play, my soul open wide.
Again and again, my spirit takes flight,
Whose name is Krishna, bathed in holy light,
Whose home is Gokul, a story untold,
To that Lord of Glory, more precious than gold.
To that Lord of Glory, my reverence shown,
Again and again, my heart is His own.
He saved Draupadi, her honor to keep,
Freed Gajendra from depths so deep,
To that home of compassion, eternally true,
To that home of compassion, my reverence renew.
To that Lord of Glory, a divine embrace,
To that Lord of Glory, I bow in this space.
Again and again, my spirit takes flight,
To that Lord of Glory, bathed in holy light.
To that Lord of Glory, my reverence shown,
Again and again, my heart is His own.
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