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Updated on March 29, 2015

Accumulating the restlessness of the flowing river,
Gathering the force of the storm,
Spreading the shine of the burning sun,
With the serenity of twilight on face,
He will be born.

When he will come -
World will be filled with chirping of birds,
New buds will bloom on tree branches,
Delighted clouds will rain.
He will come bringing nectar from the deepest sea,
He will come to distribute the divinity of olympus.
He will arrive as the excellence of stature,
as a figure of disciplined sagacity.
He will be born to bind the infinite,
to pass the impassable.
He will reach to flaming desert as consoling water drop;
will enter in a poor rustics house as lighted lamp.

He will be
the holder of delightful consciousness,
the prosody of fond poetry,
the instability of infancy,
the fickleness of youth.

His entrance will be
as lightning of generosity,
as toughness dormant in depression.
He will be
extinct arrogance, dedicated love.

With the glossiness of thousand stars,
With the torch of new era in hand
The NEWCOMER will be born.

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