No need about the world to roam

And suffer from depression

  Make poppadum within the home

 According to the lesson

Of ‘Thou art That’, without compare,

The Unique World, unspoken

Of Him who is the Adept-Sage,

The great Apotheosis,

With His eternal heritage

That Being-Wisdom-Bliss is.

Make poppadum and after making fry,

Eat, so your craving you may satisfy.

The grain which is the black grams yield,

The so-called self or ego,

Grown in the body’s fertile field

Of five-fold sheaths, put into

The roller-mill made out of stone,

Which is the search for Wisdom,

The ‘Who am I?’.’ Tis thus alone

The self will gain its freedom.

This must be crushed to finest dust

And ground up into fragments

As being the non-self, so must

We shatter our attachments.

Make poppadum. . .

Mix in the juice or the square stemmed vine,

This is association

With Holy Men. With this combine

Within the preparation

Some cumin-seed of mind-control

And pepper of restraining

The wayward senses, with them roll

That salt which is remaining

Indifferent to the world we see, With condiment of leanings

Toward virtuous unity.

These are their different meanings.

Make poppadum. . .

The mixture into dough now blend

And on the stone then place it

Of mind, by tendencies hardened,

 And without ceasing baste it

With heavy strokes of the I-I

Delivered with the pestle

Of introverted mind. Slowly

The mind will cease to wrestle.

Then roll out with the pin of peace

Upon the slab of Brahman.

Continue effort without cease

With energetic elan.

Make poppadum. . .

The poppadum or soul’s now fit

to put into the fry pan,

The one infinite symbol it

Of the great Silence, which can

Be first prepared by putting in

Some clarified butter

Of the Supreme. And now begin

To heat it till it sputter,

On Wisdom’s self-effulgent flame

Fry poppadum, ‘I’. as That.

Enjoying all alone the same;

Which bliss we ever aim at.

Make poppadum of self and after eat;

Of Perfect Peace then you will replete.