In plain words
Jogī, come to me, come to me; Jogī, I fall at your feet, I am your serving girl. The road of prema and bhakti runs apart from every other; show me that road and go. If I build my pyre of agarwood and sandal, set it alight with your own hands and go. When I have burned away to a heap of ash, rub it on your own body and go. Mīrā's lord is Giridhar Nāgar; merge my light into your light and go.