In the depths of the jungle, my hermitage calls,
Where the tall trees cradle shadows, sunlight falls.
A forty-five-day dance with fire's embrace,
No mortal taste, no cool water's chase.
The Panchagni soars, to a height of its own,
Reaching the heavens on embers that shone.
The world's ills whisper, a symphony of pain,
My penance echoes, washing the sinners' stain.
Forty-five dawns paint the forest gold,
Forty-five battles against deeds untold.
One final sunrise, a new-born day,
A new peace descends, only to stay.
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