The black bee of my mind is drawn in sheer delight
To the blue lotus flower of Mother Syama’s feet,
The blue flower of the feet of Kali, Siva’s Consort.
Tasteless, to the bee, are the blossoms of desire.
My Mother’s feet are black! This much of the mystery
These mortal eyes behold, then hastily retreat.
But Kamalakanta’s hopes are answered in the end;
He swims in the Sea of Bliss, unmoved by joy or pain.