May I but cling to thy dear feet,
No other Paradise crave I.
With heart of faith thy name I'll sing,
O Atmaram, true friend indeed.

Before thy feet I bow for aye:
Then being and its ills depart.
I'll feast mine eyes upon thy form,
And utter thus my heart's full joy.

Thou who dost help the helpless one,
And in thine hand the discus bear'st, —
Jani, the servant, ever holds
Within her heart the thought of thee.