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O gentle one, why do you fret over the harsh cries of the wicked? Even slander against Lord Krishna becomes praise when borne with austerity.
O dear lavanga flower, who has wronged you by blooming at the plough-gate? Your blossoms lie scattered in dust across the courtyard.
O messenger-friend, you are my Cupid—wounding me with sharp arrows. Bring my beloved soon or I cannot survive!
O son of Nanda, Krishna, your servant has fallen into the dangerous ocean of life. Kindly think of me as a dust particle at your lotus feet.
O firefly, drink the nectar in this clove forest, ignoring the bees. In this world full of mixed beings, why distinguish between the noble and the wic...
O friend, the spring winds have blown, the cuckoos sing, but my mind—burdened by passion—is unmoved. This season of joy has passed in vain.
O chakora birds, drink the moonlight pouring down her neck like a stream! For those grief-stricken by separation, even such light becomes a life-saver...
O musk, don’t boast of your supreme fragrance! In deep mountain caves, you leave your source—the deer—lifeless in utter obscurity.
O lotus exuding honey, your fortune lies in that even the old pure swan never abandons you—despite other blooming flowers.
O Madana (Cupid), were you not burned by Shiva? Or did you not suffer Rati’s separation? Then why torment me with love-arrows from unworthy ones, lack...
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