All the gardens and groves and bowers are abounding with blossom;
and the air breaks forth into ripples of joy.
There the swan plays a wonderful game,
There the Unstruck Music eddies around the Infinite One;
There in the midst the Throne of the Unheld is shining, whereon
the great Being sits--
Millions of suns are shamed by the radiance of a single hair of
His body.
On the harp of the road what true melodies are being sounded!
and its notes pierce the heart:
There the Eternal Fountain is playing its endless life-streams of
birth and death.
They call Him Emptiness who is the Truth of truths, in Whom all
truths are stored!
There within Him creation goes forward, which is beyond all
philosophy; for philosophy cannot attain to Him:
There is an endless world, O my Brother! and there is the
Nameless Being, of whom naught can be said.
Only he knows it who has reached that region: it is other than
all that is heard and said.
No form, no body, no length, no breadth is seen there: how can I
tell you that which it is?
He comes to the Path of the Infinite on whom the grace of the
Lord descends: he is freed from births and deaths who attains
to Him.
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