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| Poem  |
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Rama the wielder of the mighty bow
Bless us who are fallen and low
May we rise into stars above
Let our lives blossom and grow!

Prabhu Thy does not see the wicked
The mean, cunning and the crooked
Maybe Thy devotee had fallen down
Parama! But he will not remain torn!

There is in me this wicked nature
That stains my good stature
Thou knowest all about me Lord
Krishna! Prabhu! Thou art my ever dear God!

I am not so old to be totally free
Of all lustful desires inside me!
Prabhu but I hope that by Your Mercy
I will soon change into a True Devotee!

O Madhava of pure and kind heart
I do some things that are naught
Let me mend my ways soon
Make me strong, grant me that boon.

Every day let me worship with love
Govinda Thy Supreme Feet above
Lord Bless this son of Thine
Forgive me and may Thou ever be mine!