Classic Poem

In this body of clay the Lord met me; from the sound of the Guru's word belief was born.
Let the five and three and twenty-five foul stains of Kali Juga remove: cleanse thyself, the Lord commands.
How shall I proclaim his praises: there is none beside Him.
A shimmering sea of white is the service of the Lord: O Kesava, in the sea a drop has merged.