SONGS OF THE LOVE OF RĀDHĀ AND KRISHNA TRANSLATED
INTO ENGLISH BY ANANDA COOMARASWAMY AND
ARUN SEN WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES AND
ILLUSTRATIONS FROM INDIAN PAINTINGS

LONDON: THE OLD BOURNE PRESS,

15 Holborn, EC

1915.

The whole creation will be completely transformed and seem infinite and sacred, while it currently seems limited and corrupt. This change will happen through an enhancement of sensory pleasure.

—*William Blake.*

Be intoxicated with love, for love is all that matters.

—Shamsi Tabriz.

INTRODUCTION

KRISHNA PŪRBBARĀGA: The First Passion of Krishna

RĀDHĀ BAYAHSANDI: The Growing-up of Rādhā

RĀDHĀ PŪRBBARĀGA: The First Passion of Rādhā

SAKHĪ-SHIKSHĀ-BACANĀDI: The Counsel of Girl-friends (Sakhīs)

PRATHAMA MILNA: First Meetings

ABHISĀRA: (Rādhā's) Going-forth (to visit Krishna)

VASANTA LĪLA: Dalliance in Spring

MĀNA: Wilfulness

MĀNĀNTE MILNA: Reunion after Wilfulness

ĀKSHEPA ANUYOGA O VIRAHA: Reproaches, Lack and Longing

PUNARMILNA O RASODGĀRA: Reunion and the Flow of Nectar

NOTES

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

ELUCIDATIONS

BIRDS, FLOWERS AND TREES

ILLUSTRATIONS

TEXTS

CORRIGENDA

VIDYĀPATI THĀKUR is one of the most famous Vaishnava poets from Hindustān. Before him was the great Jāyadeva, who created the Gītā Govinda in Sanskrit; Vidyāpati is more in line with this tradition than with Rāmānanda, Kabīr, and Tul'si Dās, who wrote about Rāma and Sītā. Vidyāpati's fame, even though he also wrote in Sanskrit, comes from the collection of songs (pada) where he depicts the courtship between God and the Soul, represented by Krishna and Rādhā. These were written in Maithilī, his native tongue, which is a dialect that lies between Bengālī and Hindī, but is closer to the former. His status as a poet and language creator is similar to that of Dante in Italy and Chaucer in England. He didn't hesitate to use everyday language and common themes to express profound ideas. Just as Dante faced criticism from the classical scholars of Italy, Vidyāpati was criticized by the pandits; however, he understood better than they did and rightfully earned the title of Father of Bengālī literature.

Little is known about Vidyāpati's life^[1]. Two other prominent Vaishnava poets, Chandī Dās and Umāpati, were his contemporaries. His patron, Rājā Shivasimha Rūpanārāyana, while still the heir-apparent, gifted the village of Bisapī to the poet rent-free in the year 1400 A.D. (the original deed still exists). This indicates that by 1400, the poet was already distinguished. His patron seems to have passed away in 1449, suggesting that the songs translated here must have been written before that date. Additionally, a manuscript of the Bhāgavata Purāna in the poet's handwriting, dated 1456, still exists. It is clear that he lived to a good age, as it’s unlikely he was under twenty in 1400. The legend of his death goes as follows: sensing his end was near, he traveled to die by the banks of the Gangā. However, remembering that she was the daughter of the faithful, he called to her, and the great river split into three streams, spreading her waters to where Vidyāpati sat. There, it’s said, he lay down and died. Where his funeral pyre was, a Shiva lingam emerged, which still exists today, along with the remnants of the flood. This site is near the town of Bāzitpur, in the district of Darbhangā.

Vidyāpati's Vaishnava padas combine folk traditions and refined art, much like the best Pahārī paintings, which beautifully illustrate every story he sings about. Unlike many ballads with unknown authors that may come from various sources, these poems celebrate folk life and reflect popular beliefs. The songs we have are entirely the work of one exceptional talent; however, this talent didn't exist in isolation like that of modern poets. Instead, it was deeply rooted in the everyday lives of the people in fields and villages, as well as in shared beliefs and superstitions. These were times when peasants spoke as eloquently as courtiers, and both kings and farmers held the same beliefs and outlook on life—conditions in which anything was possible for art.

It’s no surprise that Vidyāpati’s impact on the literature of Eastern Hindustān has been significant, and that his songs became the cherished poetry of Bengal and Behar. His poems were embraced and frequently sung by the great Hindu lover, Cāitanya, in the sixteenth century, and they have been adapted and passed down in many dialects, especially in Bengali, within the Vaishnava tradition, of which the most recent representative is Rabindranāth Tagore. A poem by him nicely summarizes and explains the theory of the Vaishnava lovers:^[2]

I don’t believe in finding Salvation by renouncing the world!
Instead, I want to experience the flavor of Infinite Freedom,
Even while I'm bound by countless chains to the wheel:
In every beauty of sound, sight, and smell
I will find Your Infinite Joy here:
My passion will burn brightly like the flame of Salvation,
The blossom of my love will become the mature fruit of Devotion.

This brings us to the real importance of poems like Vidyāpati's. Mr. Nicholson is right when he points out that students of Eastern poetry often wonder, 'Is this a love poem pretending to be a mystical ode, or is it a mystical ode written in the language of human love?' Many times, this question can’t be answered with a clear 'Yes' or 'No': not because the poet's meaning is unclear, but because the two concepts can coexist. All expressions of love on earth reflect themes of Pursuit or Return.

As Vidyāpati himself says (No. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__):

The same flower you discard,
is the same one you use to pray.
And with that, you string the bow.

It’s clear that many of Vidyāpati's poems have a deeply spiritual meaning.^[3] Even if some seem clearly secular, we should remember that we have no right to separate these poems from their context in the books, and even less to disconnect them from their context in life.

We can illustrate this point by comparing it to poetry from Western Europe. For example, consider a poem like the following, which has a purely secular meaning (if any true art can really be called secular):

Oh! the good-looking guy from Skye
Who has taken all the cattle, all of our cows?
He's taken the gray, the black, the white.
And I have a lot of fear
He's also stolen my heart.

Had this been the norm in fifteenth-century Bengal, every Vaishnava would have understood the song to refer equally to God and the Soul as to man and woman, and for many, the former meaning would have been more apparent. On the other hand, there are many early medieval Western hymns where the language of human love is intentionally adapted for religious purposes, for example:

When spring flowers bloom,
And the birds begin to sing,
A deep desire for love
Touches my heart deeply;
All because of a new love,
That's really sweet and true.
That brings joy to all my songs.

Here the 'new love' is Christ.

Finally, there are other Western lyrics, and they are very exquisite, that could just as easily be considered religious or secular, for example:

A long time ago, I gave you
My body, my spirit, and everything I own—
I don't hold onto anything in this world. ^[4]

The Western critic who wants to understand what such a poem meant to its creator and its audience must share a spiritual connection with him and them. Let's require the same connection from those who intend to discuss Oriental poetry:

Whoever wants to get to know the poet.
I must visit the poet's homeland, —

if not in physical presence, at least in spirit.

In ecstasy, a person is completely overwhelmed: this brief escape from 'themselves' is life’s greatest gift, a promise, like a preview of Release, assuring us that Nirvāna is more than just annihilation. At the same time, it must be clear that such ecstasies aren't given to those who chase after Pleasure or cling to self-will. This is emphasized repeatedly in Vaishnava literature. It's only when the ear stops hearing the outside world that it can listen to the music in the heart, the flute of Krishna. If it’s still argued that our poet speaks more of human love than divine love—and we don’t deny that he reveres physical beauty, even though critics say Rabīndranath Tagore is the first Indian poet to do so—we respond with him that Love is One, and we also want to quote the wonderful passage from the Prema Sāgara that resolves the doubt: "How could the love of a certain milk-maid have brought her salvation, even though her love for Krishna was worldly and she didn't see him as God, but as a man?" The answer is given as follows:

Shri Krishna sat one moonlit night at the edge of a deep forest, playing his flute to entice the milk-maids from their homes. The Braj girls couldn't rest or resist the call, and leaving behind the illusion of family and their responsibilities, they hurried in a flurry from their homes to the forest. But one was noticed and stopped by her husband; still, lost in her devotion to Hari, she abandoned her body and was the first to reach Him. Sensing the love in her heart, He granted her final release.

The king, reflecting on the story so far, observes that the milkmaid didn't worship Krishna as God but saw him as an object of desire. He wonders, "How was she saved by her love?" The response is that even those who unknowingly worship Krishna achieve liberation; just like how the water of life makes the drinker immortal, regardless of whether they understand its power. Should anyone worship with intent, they will be liberated. Shri Krishna was honored in many different ways, and salvation was attained in each. For example, "Nand, Yashodā, and others recognized him as a child, the milkmaids viewed him as a lover, Kāns feared him, the cowherds called him their friend, the Pāndavas saw him as an ally, Shishupāl regarded him as an enemy, the Yaduvamsīs saw him as one of their own, and the Yogīs, Yatīs, and Munis meditated on Him as God; yet, ultimately, everyone experienced deliverance. So, what’s surprising if one milkmaid, through her devotion to Him, was able to navigate the sea of life and reach the other shore?"

This pure humanism is the Vaishnava equivalent of: "Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for Me," and "Worshiping God is... loving the greatest people the most."

We can also provide the Indian response to the objection sometimes raised about Krishna's morality, similar to how the Pharisees questioned Christ's right to pick ears of corn. The Bhāgavata Purāna, in one instance, responds like Blake or Nietzsche might, stating that dharma isn’t the same for everyone, whether they are great or small. Furthermore, it’s illogical to subject an Infinite Being, who is beyond dualities, to ethical scrutiny. As Purnendu Narayan Sinha puts it: "Nothing we know, nothing we are made of, nothing that shapes our experiences or influences our likes and dislikes, confines Krishna. He is absolute; the relative concepts we understand or even think about have no relevance to Him."^[7] Indeed, it should be clear to anyone who understands mythology that Krishna’s numerous forms in the circular dance and at Dvārakā, along with His presence in every form, are strong signs of His Infinity. It is never suggested that the illusions of family and the obligations of duty can be disregarded unless one completely surrenders to Him.

It should also be noted that the Krishna Līlā isn't a historical account (as Nīlakantha says, 'The narration is not the real point'); His Līlā in Brindāban is timeless, and Brindāban represents the human heart. We're focused on ideas and symbols, not history. The most an objector could argue is that the symbolism might be poorly chosen or misunderstood. I would treat this objection with respect and agree it could be valid from the objector's point of view. However, I don't think it holds up from the perspective of someone in love. I wouldn’t even say that those who can only interpret this passionate literature in a physical way (and we acknowledge it has both physical and spiritual meanings) should ignore it; because if the worship of beauty isn't Love, it's still a step toward Love.

However, this isn't meant to suggest that the pastoral and romantic scenes described in Vaishnava literature don't exist or have never existed anywhere in India. On the contrary, if India is renowned for its lyrical poetry, it's because it's also the classic land of love.^[8] Love is undoubtedly more significant in the Indian mindset than in the European one, and the Western fear of indulgence is largely absent in the East. But just as beauty has never been celebrated in India as an end in itself, romantic love has not held the same power and influence over life and art there as it has in the West. To rephrase this point, Indian culture is not tainted by sentimentality. This can be attributed, I believe, to a widespread and deep-seated awareness of the principle of Impermanence. It's this awareness of transience that gives the sensual and passionate art of Ajantā its spiritual depth, which is even more striking due to its elaborate context. Non-attachment is a higher virtue than non-participation. Where life is transparent, enjoyment of life does not equate to spiritual bondage. One could almost think that the Ajantā painters and the Vaishnava poets were granted Socrates' wish: "O beloved Pan, and all you other gods of this place, grant me to become beautiful in spirit, and that all outward things I possess may be in harmony with what lies within."

A few words are needed to explain the translation method. The rendering is primarily line by line, often word for word, but whenever there was a choice between capturing the exact meaning and the essence of the original, the essence has been treated as the most important. Vidyāpati reflects a certain perspective on life: it’s this view, rather than the structure of his expression, no matter how perfect, that resonates with us the most. A single word in the original is often translated with two or three words, as the brevity of Bengali is hard to replicate. Although our translation doesn’t claim to be metrical, considerable care has been taken with the phrasing to make it readable: it seems that in both music and poetry, rasa is more closely linked to phrasing than to a strict division into bars or feet.^[9] At the same time, a few examples of the original text are included in the 'Notes' to give the reader a sense of their form.

It should be noted that the songs translated here are just a part of Vidyāpati's Bangīya Padābali. We mainly used the edition by Kāliprasanna Kāvyābhisharad, which includes two hundred and two songs; there are over nine hundred in the version by Shrī Nagendranath Gupta published in Nāgarī script for H. H. the Mahārājah of Darbhangā, to whom I am grateful for a copy of that edition. The order of our translations follows that of Kāliprasanna Kāvyābhisharad; the songs we left out are those that are nearly repetitive of the ones we translated or for which we could not create a satisfactory version.

It has been very difficult to find words that can express Vidyāpati's clarity. Since the Elizabethan era, English has become limited in purely lyrical words and phrases, as modern literature, like contemporary visual art or music, seldom explores pure emotions. To present Vidyāpati in English in a way that is at all comparable to the original would require all the skill and grace of the Elizabethans combined with nearly all the seriousness of the earliest English lyrics. I say nearly all because Vidyāpati is a very intentional artist with a strong sense of humor; and while he is indeed much more serious than the elegant Elizabethans, he is not primitive in any way.

The meaning of certain words in the original text requires a quick explanation. Sakhī (the chetī from Mr. Bain's beautiful Sanskrit imitations), meaning a girl-friend and confidante of the heroine, is usually used in the vocative and translated as "my dear." Dūtīka, the messenger or go-between, is a sakhī or any woman who delivers messages between the lovers; but often, the poet himself acts as the messenger, and in this case, there may be a deliberate reference to the artist as a go-between for God and the soul. The gopīs are the milkmaids of Gokula, with Rādhā being Krishna's beloved.

Añcala, meaning the upper part of the sārī, thrown across the breast and over the shoulder, also serving as a head veil, we have translated, not quite accurately, as 'wimple,' since there's no better term. Nībibanda, which means the knotting of the sārī around the waist, is translated as 'zone' or 'girdle,' though it isn't really a separate garment.

The word rasa can never be fully translated into English, and maybe it should just be used as a loan-word, like karma, yoga, dharma, samsāra, and nirvāna. Rasa, similar to the word 'essence,' has both concrete and abstract meanings; it can refer to juice, nectar, essence, taste, flavor, savor, lust, and in a more abstract sense, taste, appreciation, passion, ecstasy, love, and more. Rasa is also the key element in both love and art. From the Indian perspective, it would be defined as an emotion triggered by the recognition of reality. The word rasa gives rise to two significant terms: rasika (a connoisseur or lover) and rasavanta or rasamanta ('possessing rasa' referring to either a person or a work of art).

It is a principle of Indian dramatic criticism that rasa is unique, and only those who are temperamentally suited to experience it—by virtue earned in a past life—can truly feel it,—Poeta nascitur nonjit. All these ideas lend significant importance to Vidyapati's brilliant saying:

Taste the pain, feel the world

'No one knows love but the lover, no one feels ecstasy except the ecstatic.'

If we apply this to life and art, it reflects what Blake meant when he said that passion is the foundation of criticism.

It should be remembered that Vidyāpati's songs, like those of all the Vaishnava poets—from Jayadeva to Rabīndranath Tagore—were intended to be sung; and as Tagore himself points out, "In a book of songs, the main thing is missing: to present the music's vehicle while leaving out the music itself is like keeping the mouse but excluding Ganapati himself" ('Jiban-smrti,' p. 148). Vidyāpati's padas may still be heard from Bengali singers, even though they are often in altered forms. It's also worth noting that songs were regularly accompanied by traditional descriptive gestures. We can partially make up for this absence by including eleven illustrations from Indian sources; although they weren't specifically created to illustrate Vidyāpati's text, they convey the same ideas. A detailed account of all the illustrations is included in the 'Notes.'

Finally, regarding transliteration: since these versions are aimed more at the rasika than the pandit, we have only marked the long and short vowels of Indian names and words found in this Introduction or in the text. The reader will do well to pronounce such words as if they were Italian. C has the sound of ch in church: for ś and ṣ, we have used sh throughout.

It is by an inexcusable oversight that the poet's name has been printed as Vidhyāpati throughout the text. (Transcriber's note: This has been corrected).

ANANDA COOMARASWAMY.

Britford, December 1914.

Krishna: Some girl I saw, incredibly beautiful—
A bright moon rising slowly,
Or a golden vine.

Eyes like two lotus flowers, colored with
The playground of waves of love—
Two timid partridges, captured by Nature
With just a line of eyeliner!

A necklace made of ivory pearls decorated
Her ample breasts—
Kāma unleashing divine flows from a __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Overflowing seashell
On a golden Shambhu!

The person who makes a hundred sacrifices on a sacred shore
Is fortunate to have such a reward!
Vidyāpati says: It is the ruler of Gokula.
The favorite among the cowherd girls.

Krishna:     Your hair shocks the yak, the mountain sinks into the valley,
Afraid of your face, the moon is disappearing in the sky,
The antelope is afraid of your gaze, and your voice scares the koil.
Your walk surprises the elephant, and he hides in the forest.

Why didn't you come talk to me, gorgeous?
They have all fled in fear of you,
So why should you be scared of me?

Let down by your breasts, the unopened lily remains under the lake.
The round jar jumps into the fire.
The sweet apple and the pomegranate float above.
And Shambhu drinks his toxin.

Startled by your arms, the golden lily root remains in the mud.
The flower stems are shaking, scared of your fingers!
Vidyāpati asks: How many should I name
About love spells like this?

Krishna:      Which god created this beautiful face?
More beautiful than anything else, bringing happiness to the heart,
Winner of the garland in the Three Worlds.

The sun-bright eyes of her attractive face
Are fooled with kohl—
Restless wagtails on a golden lotus,
Playing with black snakes.

The vine of down from her navel’s
Is like a snake struggling to breathe:
Worried that her nose resembles Garuḍa's
It hides in the valley between her breasts.

Love conquered by three arrows
Three realms,
However, two of the arrows are still remaining:
Nature is really harsh on the heartbroken.
Surrendering to her two eyes!

Vidyāpati says: Hey, beautiful girls
Who gathers around the well of Love:
King Shivasimha Rupanarayana
And Goddess Lakshmī be my witness.

Krishna:     Why did that gorgeous face come into my life?
For just a brief moment, her eyes met mine,
Her sideways glance is far too intense:
What a rough day for me!

I couldn't stop thinking about her breasts,
Love filled my heart.
Her voice rang in my head:
I wanted to leave, but my feet wouldn't move.

The bonds of hope still keep me from moving forward.
Love is like the tide, according to Vidyāpati.

Krishna:      Beautiful face, reddish mark on the forehead, hidden behind the thick, jet-black hair—
Like the sun and moon rising together, leaving the night behind.

Oh beautiful lady! With such devoted care,
Has Nature given you the beauty of the moon?

A grass green bodice hugs your chest, with just a glimpse showing.
You protect them so carefully—but no amount of snow can hide the hills!

Dark makeup accentuates your defining, lively eyes.
As if the bees would land on a wind-blown lotus.

Pay attention, young one, says Vidyāpati; you know all these spells,—
Let Rājā Shivasimha Rūpanārāyana and Lakshmī Devī be our witnesses.

Krishna:      She left the shrine at dusk, moving smoothly
Like a bolt of lightning alongside a new cloud.

She was still young, wearing a beautifully crafted garland:
A quick look wasn't enough to meet my expectations, but the fire of Love burned even brighter.

Her body was glowing, shining under the wimple with a touch of gold:
Long hair, a slim waist, and eyes that looked sideways.

And with a gentle smile, she shot me with the arrows of her gaze,—
Lord of the Five Gaurs, live forever, says Vidyāpati!

Krishna:      Laughing, talking, milk-white girl.
Like the brightest autumn moon, pouring down nectar:

A beauty unmatched, walking
Elegant in movement like a majestic elephant.

Her waist was as slim as a lion's.
her fragile body straining
under the weight of the thick, honey-like apples of
her boobs.

Her beautiful eyes sparkled white against the dye that colored them.
Bees, in a sense, confused them for pure water lilies.

Vidyapati says: The Master of lovers
Struggles to handle the sight of Radha's beauty.

Krishna:            I couldn't see her clearly:
Like a flash of lightning shooting from a wreath
of clouds,
She fired an arrow into my heart.

Half the veil had fallen, half of her face was smiling.
A glimmer in her eyes:
Half of her chest was showing, with the veil covering the other half—
Love has taken over my life ever since.

Her body was glowing, and her breasts resembled golden cups.
Her bodice, transformed by Love:
My thoughts were all over the place, — it feels to me like this trap
Was set by Kāmadev.

Her pearly teeth grazed her lips.
She whispered softly.
Vidyāpati says:                            My heart is filled with grief:
I saw her, but my hopes were not met.

Krishna:      Seeing that my love was in the bath,
She shot five arrows straight into my heart, —
As the water ran from her hair.
Her moon-like face was crying, afraid of their darkness.

The wet cloth stuck to her body, —
Just like Kāma could ignite a hermit's heart!
Her twin breasts resembled sweet ducks.
Joined by the gods on the same shore, —
Caught in her embrace.
To prevent them from flying away in fear.

Vidyāpati, the poet, writes:
The cherished girl meets her partner!

Krishna:      What a joyful day it is for me!
I saw my love while she was taking a bath,
Water flowing from her hair—
The clouds were raining streams of pearls!

Wiping her face gently,
As if she were shining a golden mirror,—
Showing both her breasts.
Where inverted golden cups were set,

She let her guard down:
That was the extent of my desire, says Vidyāpati.

Krishna:      The beautiful girl hadn’t reached the shore yet,
When she saw brave Kān standing before her:
A shy girl with her head down, surrounded by adults.
How could I see her face?

But nothing compared to the bright May's
stepping forward, she shouted,
with her face slightly turned away,
and at the same time, she broke her string of pearls.
Crying out, 'My necklace is broken!'
Everyone was picking up the beads one by one—
Then she looked at Shyāma!

Her partridge-like eyes were looking at Krishna's moon-like face.
They were sipping droplets of dew:
They were looking at each other, enjoying the taste of happiness,—
That Vidyāpati knows his stuff.

Krishna:      She smiled a bit when she saw me hanging around—
As if the rising moon lit up the night:
And when she hit me with her side-eye looks,
The sky became a flurry of activity.

Who knows who the girl could be,
Making my heart race and then vanishing?
The bumblebee is stuck in the lotus flower of love—
I was surprised to see the shy beauty pass by.

Then the beauty of her breasts became evident, —
(Who can resist the charm of a golden lily?)
She was partially hidden, partially visible.
Her full breasts showed me her desire.

Vidyāpati says: That was the start of love:
Who does Madan's hidden arrow miss?

Dūtikā:      The flower blooms among the thorns;
The frantic bee can't find a place to rest,
But keeps buzzing around the sweet jasmine,
Ignoring danger in its intense thirst.

You’re my sweet love, my treasure.
Still holding your secret treats,—
The frantic bee doesn't belong.
Or peace without your delightful presence.

Reflect on this deeply within yourself:
Why would you want to kill a bee?
Because Vidyāpati says: He will be resurrected.
If He can enjoy the sweetness of your lips.

Krishna:      Wherever her twin feet
touch the ground, a lotus flower opens up:
Wherever she moves gracefully,
There's a bright flash of light!

The amazing brightness that I saw,
Has found a special place in my heart:
Wherever she looks,
Water lilies are blooming!

Wherever her bright laugh resonates,
There, even sweet nectar becomes bitter with envy:
Wherever her sidelong looks land,
Countless arrows from Madan are shot into the air!

Even a moment spent appreciating such
Beauty is powerful enough to eclipse the whole universe.
But if I can see her one more time,
My sadness may fade away!

Vidyāpati says: For real,
I'll bring her for you.

Dūtikā:      Childhood and youth are mixed together,
Her eyes have gone to her ears:
Her words are smart, and her gentle laugh
Like the moon illuminating the Earth.

She grabs a mirror to prepare herself,
And asks, "What's the deal with love, my dear?"
How many times she secretly glances at her chest,
Smiling at her breasts!

First like a jujube, then like an __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__,
orange,
Love surrounds her more and more each day:
O Mādhava, I saw a girl who was extremely beautiful.
She embodied both childhood and youth!

Vidyāpati says: Oh silly girl,
Smart people would say, "They have come together."

Dūtikā:      Day by day, her breasts grew larger.
Her hips became wider while her waist narrowed:
Madan now highlighted her eyes.
All of her childhood vanished in fear.

Breasts that initially resemble jujubes,
And then like oranges,
Every day, the pain of Love helps them grow:
Then becoming larger than the pummelo,
Now they are two juicy honey-apple fruits.

Ah Mādhava! I saw her beautiful figure.
I unexpectedly saw her while she was taking a bath;
The thin muslin stuck to her chest,—
Whoever gets to see her like this is really lucky!

Her jet-black hair cascaded down her chest.
Like a scruffy yak hiding a golden treasure:
Listen, Murāri, Vidyāpati says:
A beauty like her can captivate a man of worth.

Krishna:      From time to time, her eyes dart to the corners,
Every now and then, her sheer robe grabs their attention;
Occasionally, her bright smile bursts into laughter,
Every now and then, a smile stays on her lips.

Sometimes she rushes anxiously,
sometimes she walks, but takes her time,
Now, for the first time, learning Madan's
classes
She steals a look at the buds of her breasts,—
Sometimes she pulls the wimple tight,
sometimes she is in awe.

She embodies both childhood and youth.
No one knows what comes first or last:
Hey, Kāna, says Vidyāpati,
The signs of youth and childhood are connected.

Krishna:      Childhood and youth are facing off,—
She stands uncertain, caught between two opposing sides:
Sometimes she pulls her hair back, and other times she lets it hang loose,
Sometimes she covers her body, and other times she leaves it exposed.

Her calm eyes show a hint of trouble,
The area where her breasts lift has purple marks,
Her restless feet reveal the turmoil in her heart:
Madan wakes up, even though his eyes are closed.

Listen, Murāri, says Vidyāpati:
Just wait patiently until I bring her.

Dūtikā: The little buds are shyly peeking out,
Her eyes have matched the rhythm of her feet,
She keeps her hand on her dress at all times,
She's too shy to ask her friends.

Oh Mādhav! How can I describe her transition into adulthood?
Even Madan's heart, upon seeing her, must be enchanted!
Love truly rules her heart:
With jars on her chest, he highlights her figure.

She concentrates on grasping the understanding of love,
Just like the deer listens to the music:
Conflict emerges between adolescence and childhood.
Neither one accepts defeat or victory.

Check out Vidyāpati's question,—
Will she not finally move on from her childhood?

Dūtikā: Now youth has come forward, childhood has receded,
Her eyes moved in sync with her feet.
Her beautiful eyes served as messengers,
Her laughter was hidden, and shame surfaced.

She's constantly adjusting her dress.
She says every word while looking down:
Her hips have attained their full elegance—
She relies on her friends when she walks.

Listen, Kana: I've reached my own conclusions,
Listen now and decide for yourself:
The significance of this situation is well-known to Vidyāpati,—
I acknowledge Rāja Shivasimha and Lakshmī Devī.

Rādhā:        How can I describe Kānu's beauty, my dear?
Who can capture that dreamy form?
His beautiful shape is like a fresh cloud,
His yellow clothes are like a bolt of lightning.

His hair is really dark and wavy!
Like a peacock's feather next to the moon!
The smell of screw-pine and jasmine,
Madan throws away his flower arrows in frustration.

Vidyāpati asks: What more can I say?
Nature has drained Madan's wealth!

Rādhā:        I wanted to see Kānu,
But when I actually saw him, I felt scared.
Since that moment, I’ve been in love and confused,
I have no idea what I'm saying or doing anymore.

My eyes were filled with tears like raindrops falling,
My heart raced nonstop:
I can’t figure out why I was looking at him, my dear,
Just for that impulse, I gave my life over to someone else!

I can't explain what that charming thief
has done to me,—
When I saw him, he took my heart and walked away,
As he was leaving, he displayed so many signs of love,
The more I try to forget, the tougher it becomes!

Hey, gorgeous girl, says Vidyāpati:
Stay patient in your heart, because you will meet Murāri.

Rādhā: A beauty unlike any other, my dear,
If you just pay attention, you might realize it was __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
A pair of lotus-shaped feet decorated with a string of moons,
From them, two gentle tamāl trees are emerging,—

They were surrounded by a vine of lightning,
He walked slowly along the bank of the Kālindī.
On his leaf-shaped hands, another string of moons—
The sunlight on freshly bloomed flowers.

Two perfect bimba fruits were ripe.
Above them was a calm parrot:
Two restless wagtails above him.
And above them, a serpent wrapped around his head.

My mischievous maid, explain:
Why did he take my breath away when I saw him like this?
Vidyāpati says: It's a sign of love;
You’ve evaluated the situation well.

Rādhā: How can I measure the depth of my sorrow, my love?
The sound of that flute fills me with sadness:
I can’t help but hear it playing,
And I feel my heart and body fall apart in embarrassment.

In that tense moment, my body
is overflowing,
I can’t look up because I don’t want anyone to see me.
Being around older people brings up a flood of emotions in me,
I pull my dress over each limb to hide it carefully.

I walk softly around the house—
Kind fate has so far kept my secret shame hidden—
But joy fills my heart and body, my belt is slipping!
Vidyāpati is shocked! What can he say?

Sakhī:         Your birth is happy, and your beauty is blessed!
Everyone is shouting for Kānu, Kānu,
And he loves you dearly.

The longing cloud craves the cātak,
The moon longs for the partridge,
The vine supports the fully grown tree—
I feel so much wonder in my heart!

When you stood there with your hair down,
Half of your veil draped over your chest,
Then Kānu saw everything and was very troubled—
Tell me, dear lady, what are your intentions?

When you laughed and smiled,
With your hands on your head,
And your casual glances cut through to his heart,—
Then when you saw him, you put a girl on your lap!

This is my story about you, oh beautiful one,
So I recommend you:
You are the love of his life, and he is a lost soul,
Says poet Vidyāpati.

Sakhī:         Listen, listen, O virtuous Rādhā:
What benefit will you gain from killing Mādhava?

During the day, the moon appears faint and solitary,
Just like he keeps getting thinner:
His rings and bracelets slip off,—
I think he has to keep recreating them repeatedly.

I just can't understand how you think.
The poet is resting his head in his hands!

Sakhī:         Make your choice, Beauty:
Kāna is like soft wax without you,
Sometimes he laughs without any reason:
What would he say from the heart?

His sighs show deep sadness,
He cries, Oh, what a shame:
His powerless body trembles,
No one can keep him relaxed.

Vidyāpati says: Dear girl,
See Rūpanārāyana.

Sakhī:         Listen, fair lady, to some good advice,
I’ll share some valuable advice:
First, sit next to the bed,
With your head slightly down, but still giving him some attention.

And when your partner touches you,
extend your hand,
Staying silent, not speaking at all:
And when he forces you against your will and
holds you tight,
You will shout passionately. No, no!

In his arms, you will find your body.
pull back,
breaking free in a moment of happiness.
Vidyāpati says: What can I say?
You will learn from the Guru yourself, even
about love itself.

Sakhī:         Now listen to me, daughter of a king,
I've come to talk to you:
You have destroyed the life of precious Kāna,—
What have you done?

As the day ended, I think,
You walked by the water's edge,
And when you saw him, did you give him a hug?
Some girl's neck, shyly smiling:

And revealing your face in the moonlight,
You left him feeling really down.
Then suddenly you vanished, before he
could totally see you.
Now he's crying, Oh no.

Showing him just a glimpse of your __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
breast
You won his heart.
Vidyāpati asks: Beauty,
How will Kānu cope?

Sakhī:      Listen to my guidance, simple girl,
Here’s some good advice:
First, decorate your hair with jewels,
And enhance your beautiful eyes with kohl.

Then you should come close to him with your bodies together,
And while pretending to be quiet, maintain your distance:
My dear, at first, you shouldn't get too close to him,
But with your playful glances, beautiful one, you'll awaken Love.

Covering your chest, while your shoulders are showing,
Your waist cinched tightly,
You might appear upset but will still be loving,
You'll restrain desire, which always returns.

Vidyāpati says: This is the first level:
Those who deserve it will enjoy the benefits.

Rādhā: I don’t know what love feels like or what desire looks like;
How can I get involved with that guy over there?
that I should love him the way you want?
I’m just a young girl, afraid of getting embarrassed.

What can I say to you, my dear?
I might not take the chance of getting involved with him,
He's an enthusiastic young shepherd,
With all five arrows of Love sparking his desire.

As soon as he sees me, he'll pull me in tight:
So who will rescue me when my life is slipping away?
Vidyāpati says: There's no need to worry,
Trust me, his love isn't like that.

Rādhā:    Please leave me, dear friend,—
I'm not going to go to where he is.
I'm not sure how to communicate effectively,
Or how to express ourselves with gestures, nor how to behave
I'm offended.

All my friends gathered around me at once, —
I can't even tie my own hair!
I've never heard what flirtation means.
How can I get involved with Mādhava?

He knows a lot about love; he's a passionate guy.
And I am a delicate girl with limited knowledge.
Vidyāpati asks: What advice should I give?
It’s important to have togetherness.

Dūtika:       Listen, listen, lovely Kānāi:
I trust you with the maiden Rādhā,
A graceful lotus girl,
And a bee that's more eager than you.

The honey feast is ready—
Just don't dwell on the Archer's cruelty,
Lightly touching her chest
Like a horn brushing against a lily.

Making excuses to count her necklace.
pearls
Your hands might bear the burden of her
boobs:
She doesn't understand the concepts of __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.
love
But sometimes they agree, and other times they say no.

The shirīsh flower isn't more delicate than she is, so
Prepare her gradually for the Archer's path—
The poet Vidyāpati showcases
This is a request from a messenger at your feet.

Sakhī: When the young woman first approached her lover,
Her heart raced with embarrassment and anxiety:
Like a golden statue, Rādhā remained perfectly still,
Neither advancing nor retreating.

He takes her hands and sits her beside him,
Feeling embarrassed and angry, she covers her face.
When he reveals her face and kisses her on the lips,
She hides her embarrassed face in Mādhav's chest.

This is the joyous song of Vidyāpati the poet,
Brightening Rājā Shivasimha's spirit.

Sakhī: The friend calmed her fears and guided her gently,—
Her lover's heart was filled with joy as he took her hand.
But Rādhā went pale at Kānu's touch,
Like a lotus fading in the moonlight.

She cries, "No, no, no!" and tears are streaming down her face.
She is lying stretched out on the edge of the bed,
His tight hug hasn't let her go from his grip—
Even touching her breasts has hardly happened.

She lifts the wimple to cover her face,
She can't calm down, but she's shaking all over.
Vidyāpati says: The key point is patience:
Little by little, Madan will take what's his.

Sakhī:         Oh beautiful girl! there’s no joy in flirting,
Because Madan causes the heart to suffer in two ways.

The young women all gathered and placed her next to Kānu.
The girl takes quick, scared breaths:
When Kānu lifts her onto his lap, she leans back against him,
Like a young snake, untainted by magic.

'But just close your eyes this one time, my beautiful,
Like a sick person taking their medication:
A brief moment of pain, followed by the joy that comes next,—
"Why are you avoiding this, my girl?"

Hey, Murāri, says Vidyāpati:
You are the ocean of desire, and she is pure.

Rādhā:        How can I describe what happened that night?
Sadly, the time was spent with Mādhava:
He held my breasts and enjoyed the sweetness of my lips,
He pressed his face against mine, and I lost my breath.

(In youth, this surge of passion:
Kān is so reckless—he doesn’t know anything about love.
He’s flooded with desire, totally unaware,
Ignoring all the requests!

Hey, beautiful lady, says Vidyāpati:
You are innocent, and Murāri is yearning.

Rādhā: What can I say, my friend? It's embarrassing to share
Everything my lover did so openly;
I'm just a young girl, not experienced in the ways of love—
It was the messenger who led me to him.

My body trembled at the sight of him,
He was so eager to confront me,
I lost my senses in his embrace:
How can I describe the romantic game he was playing?

In everything, my Lord was strict,
How can I discuss this with my friends?
Why mention it when they already know very well?
Lucky is she whom he can't annoy!

Don't worry, says Vidyāpati:
This is how the initial flirting happens.

Rādhā:        Don't push me, dear girl, don't push.
What should I do if he eases my worries?
I'm still young, not as old as Kānu,—
I'm too shy and too sensitive.

Mean Hari played with me
impatiently,
How can I know how many sorrows the night brings?
brought on me?
Passion ignited, I lost my senses,—
Who knows when he broke my belt?

He held me close, his arms around me,
And my heart was pounding;
I let him see my eyes filled with tears,
But even then, Kānu showed no mercy.

My merciless partner left my lips dry—
With the night backing him, Rahu swallowed the moon;
He grabbed my breasts,
Just like a lion tears apart an elephant.

Oh, passionate woman, says Vidyāpati,—
You knew very well that Murāri was filled with desire!

Sakhī:         Shyāma, filled with pride,
discusses the pleasures of the night:
'She is the beautiful, sweet-faced Rāi,
And I welcomed her into my heart with genuine joy.

She kissed me in so many different ways,
Giggling happily,
Playfully switching things up,
My ideal dream.

"Her words are so sweet,"
With raised eyebrows and playful looks,
A girl stirring deep within my heart.
This is first love, Vidyāpati says.

Rādhā:        Oh girl, beloved girl, please don't take me to him,
I’m too young, and he’s really intense when it comes to love.
My heart is pounding as I approach him—
The lovesick bee will plunge into the lotus.

The muslin covers my innocent body.
Like the gentle ripples on a lily pond:
Oh Mom, how beings endure
ouch!
What force brought forth the harsh Night?

Vidyāpati asks: What's suitable at this moment?
Who doesn't know when it's morning?

Sakhī: Her soft words come out as a stutter,
Her timid speech is difficult to convey:
Today I found her really confusing,
Sometimes agreeing, sometimes afraid.

At any mention of flirting, she
closes her eyes quickly,
For she has seen the vast sea of Love:
When it’s time to kiss, she turns her face.
gone—
The moon has embraced the lotus!

Filled with fear if anyone gets too close, the bright young woman
Recognizes that Madan's wealth is being taken.
Her clothes are a mess; she covers her chest with her arms—
The jewels are on display, but she still ties her clothes!

What should Vidyāpati really think?
Because at the moment they hug, she gets out of bed!

Rādhā: Oh Hari, why are you trying to untie my belt?
You won't get what you want.
I don't understand what joy there is in looking at me,
But now I see through your tricks, O Banamāli!

If you hear my request, Murāri,
I’ll just tease you a bit:
With just playful affection, why do we need to look?
My heart can't handle this.

You've never heard anything like this before,
While the lights are on, have fun with me:
The people in the house will hear us breathing!
Please be kind to me, as the people in the house are very close.

This flavor Vidyāpati understands well, —
King Shivasimha and Goddess Lakshmī are the witnesses!

Rādhā:        You who understand the ways of desire, have mercy on my embarrassment,—
I’ll leave it behind when I get older:
My little charm can't please you at the moment,
A tiny sip won't satisfy your thirst.

If you could just take it easy,
Growing every day like the phases of the moon!
These small breasts of mine will hardly fit in your hands.
O Hari, please don’t hurt them with your nails; be gentle in love.

Vidyāpati exclaims: What are these actions,
Why value a green pomegranate so much?

Rādhā:        You are the one who defeated Chānur:
This delicate woman is the shirīsh flower.
O cruel messenger who ignited this conflict,
And placed a jasmine garland around the elephant's neck!

The sūrm no longer clouds my vision,
The air is filled with the scents of musk and sandalwood, mingled with sweat:
O injured Mādhav, I ask you,
Please don't give up my life for the sake of Desire!

Oh Hari, Hari, please allow your plan to unfold.
To keep myself alive for another day.
Give Love what it deserves, enthusiastic lover!
Vidyāpati says: Your wish will be granted.

Sakhī: The lovesick guy, and his darling is not much:
If anyone touches her, she’s full of surprises!
With what charm and flattery have the girls won her over?
To her lover's place and laid her on his bed!

With her face turned away, lying in a curled position,
(Who can change the path when passion takes control?)
She covers her face with the scarf,—
The frightened moon escaping the storm.

No words come from her mouth; she hears nothing.
that's being said,
She keeps folding her hands.
pleadingly
With her arms wrapped around herself, she protects the
precious things in her life—
She doesn’t need a bodice to support her.
breasts.

Always out of sight and out of reach.
She keeps her treasures hidden in the storehouse of Love, —
A topic for her friends to tease her about for several days,
Now showing her the ways of love.

Vidyāpati takes great pleasure in this:
With a quick movement, she reaches out her hand!

Sakhī:         That's enough! Let go of the troubles in your heart.
Don't be scared, go to your partner:
Stop being stubborn, because I'm telling you.
You can't experience joy without feeling some pain.

But a little bit of sorrow, and then
a happy life.
Why are you so against this, my girl?
For a moment, close your eyes,
like a sick person takes their medication.

Go on, Beauty, and play the game of love,
Vidyāpati is seeking your approval.

Rādhā:        O Hari, if you really have to touch me,
You’ll be responsible for your wife's death.
You're a clever lover full of passion.
I can't tell if it's sweet or bitter.

When passion overflows, I shake.
Like a wounded antelope hopping:
Oh, don't chase your dreams too quickly, —
The wise man always has a deeper purpose.

Vidyāpati states: I can see it clearly,
That sweet fruit is never immature.

Sakhī: How to guide the shooting arrows of her restless eyes
The Archer-guru teaches her the lesson she never knew.
(And who would practice without understanding?)

"Oh, please don’t take my life against my will!"
Don't mess with me, O Kānu—let go of my skirt;
"I feel so weak; I'm scared of the struggle of love."

How can my youthful days satisfy your wishes in any way?
A small amount of wealth won't satisfy a beggar.
The unopened jasmine of early spring
Can't satisfy the hunger of eager bees:
A sinful act can never result in a happy ending—
Don't rush when you need to be careful.

Says Vidyāpati: Oh, passionate Kanu!
The frenzied elephant ignores the poking.

Sakhī:        With gentle coaxing, all the maidens
Took her to her lover's side,
A fawn taken from the forest
Out of breath.

The sweet-faced person sits by the bed.
With busy, averted glances,
Her mind wandering far away,—
Love struggling to breathe.

Love is tough, and beauty is
totally unyielding
Her belt is snugly fastened, her dress
There are barriers in front of her lips.

Her body tightly wrapped on neither side.
A quick look showed,
She gives her life with a touch,—
How can Hari get what he wants?

Unhappy Kānta lays how many
Upon the girl's feet,
Hurting her soul (that’s what Rādhā believes):
This is the song of Vidyāpati.

Sakhī: More beautiful than a royal trumpet, more graceful than a swan,
She sets off to meet her partner:
Her amazing body far outshines any golden flower,
Or perfect lightning flash.

Her hair is much more beautiful than the clouds,
the night, or the yak,
Or even bees or moss:
Her eyebrow, shaped like a crescent moon, extends beyond
Arrows, bees, and snakes.

Her face shines brighter than a gold mirror,
the moon or a lily;
Her lips are like bimba fruit and coral:
Her teeth are more beautiful than pearls, jasmine, and pomegranate seeds.
Her neck looks like the shape of a conch shell.

Her beautiful breasts are better than a sweet apple or two palm fruits,
Or golden jars, mountains, or goblets:
Her arms are more elegant than lotus roots or jungle vines.
Her waist is like that of a drum or a lion.

Softer than moss, her gentle vine
And darker than dusk:
Her curves are more beautiful than
Rolling waves:
Her belly button is much more impressive than any lake or lotus petals.
Her hips are like an elephant's.

Her thighs are more graceful than a banana stem,
Her hands and feet, the blooms of the earth:
Her nails are more brilliant than pomegranate seeds, the moon, or jewels.
Her voice is sweeter than honey.

Vidyāpati says: Her beauty is incomparable,
Rādhā's beauty is unique:
King Shivasimha Rupanarayana
It's the eleventh Avatar!

Sakhī:         Rādhā's love is fresh,
No obstacle can stop her:
She's ventured out on her own,
Unfazed by the way.

She throws away the jeweled necklace.
That pressed down on her prominent breasts:
She takes off the rings and bracelets from her hands.
And leaves them all along the way.

She throws her jeweled anklets away.
And hurries on:
The night is dark and thick,
But love brightens the darkness.

The road is full of dangers.
The power of love can conquer:
Vidyāpati gets your thoughts—
There has never been anyone like this before.

Krishna:      It's getting late, the fair one is scared and worried:
When will she with the elegant walk get here?
The path is full of scary snakes,
How many dangers are ahead of her, and she has such delicate feet!

I entrusted her to Providence,
May success accompany her encounter with beauty!
The sky is dark, and the ground is wet—
I’m worried about her safety.

The darkness is everywhere thick,—
Her feet might stumble; she can't see the way.
Her gaze captivates every living being.
Lakshmī appears as a human!

Poet Vidyāpati says:
The girl in love submits to no one except for Love.

Sakhī:         She covers her face, that woman over there,—
They inform the king: The moon has been captured.
Oh beautiful lover, how can you remain unseen?
By the guards watching in every house?

Don’t let your smile shine too much,
Just speak your words softly and gently,—
Because your shining teeth are close to your lips.
Like a pearl next to a pink spot.

Listen, listen to my words of advice,
Even in your dreams, don’t let anything hold you back:
The moon is only different from you in her imperfections,
Because she is marked, while you are untainted.

Haha! King Shivasimha and Goddess Lakshmi,
Vidyapati says: My heart has no fear.

Sakhī:         The people are waking on the king's highway,
Moonlight illuminates the Earth's surface:
No peace in new love—
I'm amazed to see you. Gorgeous!

The girl has so many ways of trying to hide herself:
She sneaks out to meet someone dressed in a boy's outfit.
And puts her long hair up in a bun.
Updating her clothing style.

And since her breasts can’t be hidden by their veil,
She clutches a musical instrument close to her chest:
This is how she enters the dark part of the forest,—
The Lord of lovers won't be able to recognize her when he sees her!

Mādhava feels confused when he sees her,
But with a touch, the mystery is solved.
Vidyāpati asks: What happened next,—
What games of Love came next?

Kavi:      Then arrived the ruler of the seasons,—Royal Spring:
The swarms of bees surrounded the mādhavī flowers,
The sun's rays highlighted their youthful energy,
The keshara flowers supported the king's scepter.

Fresh pītal flowers decorated the royal throne,
Golden blossoms raised the state umbrella.
And mango buds crowned the top:
Before the king, the koels sang the pancam note.

The peacocks strutted, the bees
The reborn chanted their blessing spells:
Inspired by the warm southern breeze.
The flower pollen formed a colorful canopy.

Jasmine and honey-apple held the banner:
Pātal, the quiver, lined with ashoka trees like arrows.
Noticing the combined kimshuk and labanga vine
Winter turned into Spring.

The army was like a swarm of honeybees.
That completely chased away Winter:
The saved lotus came to life.
Showing its new leaves like a crown.

There's joy in Vrindavan,
As it fits what will occur there.

Kavi:       In Brindāban, the groves are fresh and green,
The flowers bloom again:
Spring is here, and the warm southern breeze
Causes swarms of buzzing bees to gather.

The beauty of youth is shining through.
The groves along the banks of Kālindī have a unique beauty,
New traps of love are being laid:
The bees are attracted to fresh, juicy buds,
The young koils are calling out.

The young women, driven by new aspirations,
Heading to the woods.
A new leader is in charge: the passionate young lovers.
Are shining with new brightness.

Forever and ever, new
      entertainment like this
bring joy to Vidyāpati.

Kavi:      The bees are buzzing with joy during the honey season
Enjoying the sweet nectar of the flowers:
In Honey-Brindavan lives
The master of sweet love.

Among the groups of couples
Is sweet, sweet flirting:
The joyful sounds of music are sweet,
Gentle hands are creating enjoyable rhythms.

Sweet is how the dance flows,
The dancers' movements are graceful.
Sweet are their happy songs,
And the words of Vidyāpati are sweet.

Kavi:      The joyful spring night takes control
Enjoying fun times and passionate dancing;
And beautiful Rādhā, the gem of all women, is filled with desire—
He’s a dance expert. He finds joy with her.

The girls happily
Gold bracelets jingling happily,—
Now they're going to perform a love song.
The essence of Spring, stronger than ever.

Rabāb, pināsh, and mahātik are having a game:
Murali is having a great time, spreading happiness to Rādhā's heart.
The happy poet Vidyāpati sings
What Rūpanārāyan, his master, understands clearly.

Krishna:      Please hold back your anger, my haughty lady:
With your golden-skinned body and snake necklace,
I swear by these—
If I ever touch another girl, leaving you behind,
May that snake around your neck strike me!

Or if you can't believe my promises,
Punish me in whatever way you think is best:
Bound by the power of your embrace,
Crush me with your body.
Rest the weight of your breasts on me.
Keep me close to you day and night!

Vidyāpati says: This meditation is fitting!

Dūtikā:      The one who used to play with a flute has thrown away his jewels,
The person who used to wear a yellow flower now crawls at your feet,—
There was a time when your eyes would fill with tears if you didn't see him.
Now you won't even look at his face!

Beauty, put aside your bad mood.
Passionate Kānu is worshiping at your feet:
By good luck, this loving Shyām is yours.
By good luck, the spring season—

By a lucky chance, this love has been realized,
By a lucky chance, this happy night,—
Lady, steadfast, will you let go of your Krishna's embrace,
And spend the rest of your life in lonely sadness?

This is how love works, says Vidyāpati, —
But turning down a prayer isn't something to respect.

Dūtikā:      One brief moment of a day you hold onto your youth,—
The days are passing by:
Good and bad, these two will walk next to you,—
The only true reward is what you share with others.

Beauty, you've played a part in killing Hari,
He thinks about you all day and night—
This is his moment of breaking away!

In the sea of sadness, he either swims or sinks—
Show him your curves:
Oh worthy beauty, may the Lord of Gokula protect,
And gain the respect of the Three Worlds!

Of countless lovers, whoever
sees Kāna,
believes that day is awesome:
Hari is frenzied because of your
anger
the poet Vidyāpati declares.

Rādhā:         You can't convince me otherwise, my dear:
I slowly got to know him better,
That Kānu is really sneaky.

He made a snack from some twisted wood,
By drenching it in syrup:
Filling a golden jar with poison,
He finished it with a layer of milk!

But Kān is definitely good, and I'm the one who's bad,
Because his words captivate me:
In both heart and words, he is consistent,
Unmatched among many others.

The same flower you toss aside is the same one you use in prayer.
And in the same way, you string the bow:
This is the essence of Kānu's speech.
The poet Vidyāpati states.

Dūtika:      O beautiful and fierce lady, cold-hearted,
He’s in such a situation, and still you say nothing!

True love doesn't operate like that;
You should totally spend time with him.

When he loses his life due to his loneliness,
Who will you stay mad at then?

Who says you’re too soft?
No heart has ever been as tough as yours!

If you don’t spend time with Mādhava now,
The poet Vidyāpati will never speak to you again.

Kavi:      With her head down, she writes on the ground,
Anyone who mentions Shyāma's name, she totally ignores.
Her hair falls loosely over her glowing robe,
She leaves behind her jewels and all her fancy clothes.

Her face is like a lord of pink lilies, empty of any depth:
The world is drowning in her endless tears.
At that moment, the Lady of the Forest showed up.
And said, "Beautiful girl, let’s go serve the Sun."

But she, with her head down, said nothing.
Vidyāpati says: She left.

Krishna:      'Why cover your face, my lovely?
You've captivated my thoughts:
You fear nothing when it comes to taking lives,
Your courage knows no bounds!

O angry lady, my heart is
so stressed out,
I can’t take the pain of love anymore,
and I've come to you for shelter.

'Whether two tall hills or cups'
I look and can't choose:
And on each chest is Shambhu.
honored
Framed in his crescent moon.

"I would love to touch them with these."
lotus position
If destiny permits:
I'm seeking a safe spot at your feet—
(Oh, I hope the girl is nice!)

Watching her fidget made me feel upset.
My heart was racing.
Hey, young lady, says Vidyāpati:
Do a favor for Kāna.

Krishna:      Listen, listen, dear Rādhā,
What have I done for you to reject me?

How many stars have shone in the sky,
But the moon is a different version!

What else can I mention that's unique?
Among all the Lakshmīs, I only have eyes for one.

Upon hearing this, the young woman broke down in tears.
And his wishes came true.

Vidyāpati says: There was a gathering;
Everyone was impressed by the story!

Krishna:      Your full round breasts—like golden cups—
Your captivating eyes have totally enchanted me:
Oh beautiful lady, please control your intense anger,
And let the wild bee have his sip of honey!

I hold your hands, my beautiful girl,
Don't be so tough, please have some understanding of my situation:
How many times do I have to tell you?
I can't handle the pain of love anymore!

Vidyāpati says: You know perfectly well.
A hope that’s postponed is worse than death.

Dutikā:      Listen, O Mādhava: Rādhā is being stubborn,—
I alerted her carefully and in so many ways.
And still, the beauty didn't reply!

The beautiful girl, when she hears your name,
Covers her ears with her hands:
She who thought your love was always new.
Now they won't even listen to you!

I put a lock of your hair in front of her.
Flowers, grass, and a pan:
But she wouldn't look at the furious face of a lily,
She stayed unbothered, with her face turned away.

This heart of yours, really,
is the true essence of lightning,—
How can I ease your anger?
Vidyāpati says: A kind word would be fitting;
But you need to stay true to yourself, O Kāna.

Rādhā:           Finally, my dear, I realize how rough Kāna is:
A brass axe, useless for any purpose,
Just a light layer of glitter on top!

Even though I shot him an angry glare, how
did the mountains
split into two wide paths?
Thinking the shālmal was a sandal, he
held it tightly,—
But there was a thorny dart!

Someone who has spent their life with animals,
What could they possibly know about Rati's ways?
This is a sweet night, but I let it slip by.
With that rude Herdsman over there!

Vidyāpati says: Hey, girl:
He's not a rude person!
You are tough, and your job is also herding,
You can't blame Hari for that!

Rādhā:     A golden flower bloomed,
I hoped the fruit would be valuable,
I fed its roots with streams of milk;
I didn't see any results, and everything felt useless!

I'm just the ordinary daughter of a cowherd,
This unworthy love feels even worse than death.
What sorrow, oh no, has Fate brought upon me—
In my pursuit of profit, I lost everything!

This is Vidyāpati's conclusion:
You can't straighten a dog's tail.

Krishna:      The sun is rising in the East, the darkness of the night has faded,
The moon is disappearing in the sky.
The water lily is closed—and just like that, my beautiful lady,
Your beautiful face looks distant.

A face like a lily, with eyes like lotus flowers,
And lips sweet like honey.
Your entire body is shaped like a flower,—
So why is your heart so closed off?

Your hands are empty, and you don't have any bracelets,
Even a flower crown feels like a burden.
And yet you just can't let go of your huge pride—
What awful ways you have!

Now release these wrongs, bring joy to Hari, my lovely one,
With the new day, let go of your anger:
King Shivasimha Rūpanārāyana,
Proclaims Vidyapati!

Sakhī:      Beauty, of noble birth and kindness, without your eyes—
The best of lovers—what can you do about it?
How can you chant, donate to charity, or keep your promises?
Who lacks compassion for those in need?

"I want to give you a serious piece of advice, my friend:
One good deed can outweigh many wrongs,
But one sin can erase the advantages of many virtues.

Although he's the brother of poison, he's a thief who takes a guru's wife.
And expelled from Rahu's grip.
Burning apart lovers, killer of water lilies,—
Yet for his qualities, the moon shines brightly!

Taking care of someone else's kids while neglecting his own,
The crow drinks the remnants of love:
But just one word from Him wipes away all those mistakes—
He speaks such nice words.

Rādhā:     'What can I say, my dear, about Kāna's love—
What’s the real source of all good qualities?
When He plays His flute, He makes a hundred promises.
But even then, I still can't trust Him.

'New hugs: kissing me on'
His lap,
He says he's loyal!
But he spent the night with another girl,
And left me feeling defeated.

'In something more intense than fire, my body
"I feel the influence of Rati on every part of me."
Life might come to an end, says Vidyāpati,
And yet, you still refuse to join forces with Hari!

Rādhā:     Listen, heartless Hari,
Shame on your love!
Why did you say you'd meet me,
So you're spending the night with another girl?

You feign love for Rāi,
And flirt with another girl:
Who claims that brave Kānu is the best lover?
There's no other fool like that anywhere else.

Turning down ruby, you search for glass,
Leaving a lake of nectar, you long for saltwater,
Giving up a sea of curds to enjoy a spring,—
Shame on your smooth talk!

Vidyāpati, the poet master, says:
Rādhā will never look at you again.

Rādhā:     Yearning for sweetness, I rushed to the flower
But I never got close.
I didn't see a single drop from the ocean of honey,
Now people are laughing at me.

And look, my dear, the enchanted bee
And no one judges that:
Taking small steps, I started to understand him better,
His heart is as unpredictable as lightning.

Leaving the lily behind, he went after the screw-pine,
Inhaling its aroma:
But the thorns have scratched his skin.
His face is dirty.

Feeling a bit hurt, I think, he comes up to me again,
As if he’s been betrayed:
There's one flavor that people have never understood—
The difference between good and bad.

Hey, my dear girl, says Vidyāpati;
Only people in love truly get it,—
King Shivasimha represents all virtues.
And Queen Lakshmī Devī is his wife!

Sakhī:      The anger of the angry ran away far away
Kānu sank in a sea of sweetness:
But when he asked her to hug him,
Even though burdened by love, her beautiful body could not bend.

The young man spoke sweetly,
The beauty's sighs were shaky;
Her partner sat her on his lap.
But still, the sweetness was just a little bit.

He gently kissed her face—her eyes were brimming with tears,
Even though her heart was full of love, she still felt a sense of emptiness;
He confidently placed his hands on her chest.
But even then, desire stayed inactive.

And when he finally released her.
In that moment of joy, desire seemed to be missing.
Yet, she still felt no joy:
Is it pleasure or pain, asks Vidyāpati?

Sakhī:      Unmatched Rādhā next to Murāri,—
Her anger faded, the anger that was unrelenting!
Mādhava kisses Rādhā's face,
Looking at her moon-like face with tearful eyes.

All of her maidens were filled with joy,
Madan won the affection of both.
Both were captivated, wrapped in each other's arms:
A view that brings happiness to Vidyāpati.

Sakhī:      'Tell me, O Beauty, what were the night's pleasures.
How did your Lord fulfill your expectations?
(It's interesting how Providence)
Has created both men and women!
You are the most beautiful woman in the world.
"And have gained the support of Murāri, the most honorable of men."

Rādhā:     'I can't express my lover's love,
The fates haven't given me many options!
He removed his necklace of ivory pearls,
And softly put it around my neck:
He took my hands and placed me on his lap,
And relaxed my body with fragrant sandalwood.

"He let my neatly tied hair down,"
And decorated it with a beautiful garland;
With sweet, loving gazes, Kāna looked at me,
His eyes were filled with tears of joy.

Waves of love, says Vidyapati:
Hey, my love, I’m singing about their relationship.

Sakhī:      Boundless goodness! wherever longing souls connect—
Now there is an unbreakable bond between the two:
So many have tried this way and that,
But none managed to separate the two!

No home in this cruel world
Has anyone ever experienced love like this, a true fountain of milk!
If someone brings it to the fire
And stirs the milk to separate the liquid,
The milk, flourishing in the heat, spills over—
Driven by the pain of being apart, it leaps into the fire!

If someone adds more water to it,
Then the feelings of separation disappear.
Vidyāpati proclaims: Love is like this,
And that’s the love of Rādhā-Mādhava.

Rādha:     My Kāna is very clever,
He calmed my anger without using any magic!
He showed up today in a yoga outfit—
Who can explain such unusual behavior?

At my mother-in-law's request, I went to donate some money to him,
When he saw my face, he started to whisper sweet things,
And he said, "What I want is the gem of your pride,"—
(Then I realized how misleading he was!)

It's a shame to go over everything he said again.
No one knows who the Master of lovers is!
Vidyāpati says: gorgeous Rāi,
How can you grasp the extent of his cleverness?

Rādhā: What can I say about today’s events, my dear?
A gem ended up in the hands of an idiot.
Who doesn't recognize the worth of gold or glass,
And considers jewels and gañja seeds to be the same,

Who doesn't know the art of love,
And believes that milk and water are the same:
How can I take care of him?
Should a monkey wear a string of pearls around its neck?

With this in mind, Vidyāpati asks:
Has a pan ever touched the mouth of a monkey?

Rādhā:     What should I say to you, my dear friend?
I can't discuss today's fun:
I was lying alone on my flower bed,
Love was with me, armed with his flowery arrows.

Kāna showed up with his jingling anklets,
In a playful mood, I lay there with my eyes closed:
Kāna came over and sat down next to me,
I turned my face to hide my laughter.

Hari removed my floral crown,
And gave me his peacock feather headdress:
With great care, he took the pearl out of my nose.
And took the necklace off my neck!

Releasing the bodice, my dear one went crazy!
Then Madan woke up, and I found the thief in my arms:

Vidyāpati says: He's a clever flirt—
You might be charming, but your partner is a master at the game of love!
You have feelings, but he's a total expert in the game of love!

Rādhā:     I was still really angry.
But my partner, pretending to be a girl,
let go of my pride
What can I say about today's events, my dear?
Because Kān arrived with the girl messenger!

He tied his curly hair into a bun,
The master of lovers is dressed like a girl!
He wore a necklace and stuffed his chest.
He wore a jeweled anklet on his ankle.

First, he stepped forward with his left foot, —
Ratipati danced with his stunning bow;
I watched in amazement and hugged him tightly.
With my eyes down, I placed him in my lap!

When I sensed his body filled with love,
The pride of my anger faded away underground,
I stood there in awe, with my finger on my nose.
Vidyāpati says: The battle is finished!

Rādhā:     My playful friend, what should I say?
There was another crazy prank:
Barefoot and unclothed, I sat at home alone,
When he with the lotus-like eyes appeared out of nowhere!

Covering one side of my body exposed the other.
Oh, open up and let me fall into the ground!
I tried to cover my breasts with my hands, but I couldn't—
Just like snow can't cover the southern hills.

Shame on you! My life, my youth, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__,
The Lord of Braj noticed my body today!
Oh passionate Rai, Vidyāpati inquires,
Could you outsmart someone as smart as him?

Rādhā: Oh mother, what can I say today!
The stain won't come out, no matter how much I wash it with water:
After my bath, as I climbed the bank of the Kālindī,
The lightweight muslin stuck to my body,
So that my figure was clearly visible, —
And there was Yaduvira right in front of me!

My butt was clearly showing,
I turned around and let my hair fall over them:
And when he looked at my breasts,
I turned away from Hari and sat down.
But crafty Mādhava looked at my body with a smiling face,
The body I tried to conceal just wouldn’t stay hidden!

You're a clueless maid, says Vidyāpati:
Why didn’t you return to the water?

Rādhā:    My mother-in-law was asleep, and I was lying in her lap,
And the love-smart Kānu was hiding close by.
I somehow signaled him:
Are you going to stop messing around, or should I just leave?

"Control this affection, oh foolish lover, —
"Right now, your wishes aren't going to come true!"
Is there any happiness in hugs from behind,
Can a thirst for water be quenched with milk?

Leaning in close, how did he enjoy the sweetness of my lips?
How often did he gently rest his hand on my breasts,
Not letting any heavy sighs betray him,—
What fun battles were fought with big smiles!

My mother-in-law woke up, and Kāna left.
“My hopes didn’t come true,” says Vidyāpati.

Rādhā: I was by myself, making garlands,
My skirt and top were baggy,
And then Kānu arrived with his warm smiles!
(How can I cover my chest and waist?)

My love embraced me with a happy laugh,
Modesty and shame disappeared into the underworld—
How can I blow out the lamp that's too far away?
And still, my fearless life doesn't end in shame!

This is genuinely a loving act, says Vidyāpati:
So why would you bring shame to the person you dedicate your life to?

Rādhā: Today my awkward shame was gone,
He realized what he really wanted:
What can I say, my dear? (It brings a smile to my face to bring it up,)
Today's romance was just incredible.

The thick clouds rolled in to
The stunning mountain peaks rose high above:
I also, gazing into the green mirror,
I found myself in a place where there's no feeling of up or down.

I just received new advice from Kān, my lord,
His words shocked me:
He provided a place to stay for those who were homeless—
I felt embarrassed and kept my true feelings hidden.

The prince of pleasure pulled me onto his lap.
And with the veil, he wiped away the fatigue,
As I was gently fanned, I fell asleep.
Vidyāpati says: It's joy like no other!

Rādhā:         What can I say, my dear? It’s beyond measure!
I can't tell if this was a dream or reality,
Or if it’s really near or very far.

Under the flashing lightning,
darkness was created,
Inside, a flow of heavenly nectar:
The encroaching darkness swallowed the sun and moon.
Stars were falling everywhere!

The sky fell apart, the mountains crumbled,
The ground shook violently,
The winds howled fiercely,
The bees buzzed in swarms: