Abhista Sucanam

May the wild, unruly horse of my heart be brought under rein by the powerful steed of longing to serve the daughters of the cowherd village, guided by Sri Rupa, who is like a wish-fulfilling jewel.

By whose effort my mind, fixed on tranquillity, self-control, and discrimination of the soul, became unwavering and absorbed in spiritual matters -- that same mind now, having gained the nectar of Rupa Gosvami's compassionate smiling glance, is intoxicated by the pastimes of Hari.

O deer of the secluded forest, you who forever drink Krishna's face with your eyes during his hidden pastimes, you alone are supremely fortunate; but I -- not even a stray dog of Vraja, wandering about only to fill its belly -- can never behold him even for an instant. Alas for me!

O friend, having brought about the meeting so eagerly sought within the many trysts my mind arranged, and having found it here within a bower, present me for their service at the moment betel is offered to the lord and lady of Vraja.

O friend, do I behold Radha being tended by all of you -- her body grown languid and heavy from the intense exertion of passionate love-play, her cheeks moist with beads of perspiration, her form resting against the broad chest of Vraja's prince?

May that Lord of medicinal herbs, Krishna, protect me -- he who tirelessly scatters the unceasing darkness of the demon race, who showers the nectar of love upon his devotees who are like cakora birds living on moonlight, whose cooling hand makes Radha blossom like a water-lily vine, and who is himself a cluster of blossoms upon her breast.

When, in the dance of rasa, shall I behold with my own eyes -- at some blessed hour -- Krishna's graceful sporting with rasa-filled Radha on the mountain slope, their playful quarrel over the curds, and the waves of amorous jest that ripple through the assembly of sakhis stirred by Cupid's breeze?

Before Rohini, having offered a hundred blessings, and the lord of the cowherds trembling with fear before the terrifying form of Nrisimha in Halin (Sankarshana), placing the tearful queen of Vraja among her weeping sakhis -- may that ever-fresh cowherd boy protect me, who wanders about seeking shelter, gazed upon with loving pride by the whole assembly of Vraja's residents headed by Radha and her dear companions.

"Who is this Vraja damsel, O friend, unseen yet seeming already seen? From where has she come here to worship you, matchless one -- from Madhu-puri?" -- so Radha teasingly said, and Krishna, his youthful identity now known, smiled, saying, "Let this unprecedented girl enjoy with the unprecedented Hari."

Having sweetened the newly beautiful, bewitching nectar of the name "Radha" and the sweet, wondrous, deep milk of the name "Krishna" every moment with the cooling fragrance of pure devotion, quench, O tongue, the thirst that afflicts you -- drink it even now.

O moon of Chaitanya, having opened wide the night-lotus of my heart, make it delightful with the sportive bees of remembrance of you; and having dispelled the dense darkness of offence, mercifully give this wretched one to drink the nectar of your lotus feet.

With the sweet notes of cuckoos and the humming song of bees for music, in the joyous, incomparable inner chamber of a flowering bower, in the assembly hall of Cupid, I shall fan the tired, dancing young divine couple of Vraja as they perform.

By the power of service to the dust fallen from whose lotus feet I dwell, though in hardship, forever by Radha's lake near the king of mountains -- may that glorious Sri Rupa, cherished and protected by the host of her dear companions, whose fame surpasses nectar and who is known as Radha-Mukunda's own, again let me sing of and hear his glories.