Avajnaya Bhartur Maha Ghora

Disregarding her husband's terrible, dreadful punishment, and transgressing the harsh words of her elder, casting aside the maidservant who tried fiercely to restrain her, she goes forth repeating aloud, "O Hari! O Krishna! O my Lord!"

In the thick rainclouds terrible with lightning, streaming with rain, in the boundless darkness, in this evening dense with gathering perils, my friend, disregarding shame, is ready to set out.

Crossing the border of this fearsome forest, alive with sound and passion -- where nearby bears have begun to fight, where the path is blocked by the coiling bodies of swarming serpents, where on every side the terrifying hooting of owls resounds --

she entered the flawless midst of a bower of creepers, her eagerness unwavering, her nature ever guileless, and there prepared a bed resembling foam upon water, made of fragrant flowers plucked with her own fingertips.

She, Mukunda, kept her eyes fixed again and again upon your path, cherishing an ever-fresh longing; but then, understanding you had not come, she grew utterly distressed, pierced through by the flower-arrows of Cupid.

This sweet-voiced girl, deceived, kept indulging in restless chatter, feeling each passing moment stretch into an age; today, in the bower, my friend spent the whole night awake alone, agitated, her hoped-for union unattained.

What great fortune -- you have finally arrived at once in this bower nearby, O Murari! The gaze of the sakhis, raining down joy, became filled with delight upon beholding your form.

Seeing all around the great splendour of your yellow silk garment, that jasmine garland of yours, rolling in the saffron paste glistening on her breasts, seems today, I suspect, to have made her own fair body yellow.

Your moon-like face, its locks disheveled, its beauty weary, shows plainly your drowsiness; and this body of hers, its cosmetic markings disturbed, bears the marks of nails, a testimony to the sacrifice offered to Cupid.

Rivalling in its sport the bee that clings to the radiant bandhujiva flower, whose delight does her bimba-red lower lip, reddened by that contact and now brightened with smeared collyrium, arouse today?

Enough, my Lord, of these divine oaths -- I know well that you are always deeply in love with Radhika. Now quickly leave this veranda and set forth, O philanderer among the cowherd maidens, and put an end to my anxiety this dawn.

Having heard all these words filled with love from Radhika's dear friend, Hari, wearing his jewelled garland, felt boundless satisfaction; may he always grant me my cherished desire.

Shooting arrows of Cupid through his glances, the peacock feather trembling upon his crown, filling the fragrant air with the sound of his flute, ending the anguish of separation felt by the cowherd girls --

gladdening his mothers on every side, my friend, making a wanton of the entire universe, rendering the hearts of young women restless and full of longing, his bowstring hanging loosely at his side --

as the day draws to its close, greatly jubilant, O full-breasted one, his laughter playful and radiant, his splendour mocking even the flax flower, he suddenly throws the herds of does into confusion --

inclined with love, his shark-shaped earrings swaying at his lovely ears, surrounded by his troop of friends, maddening even the wives of the demigods, setting the bees whirling, joined by flocks of peacocks --

he, illuminating the very pathway of Vraja, delighting the earth with his soft footsteps, has now arrived in the courtyard, full of joy -- O joyful one, do you still feel anxious?

Speak no harsh word, hold no anger in your heart; now, dear one, go to him with playful grace -- for when the cool, moonlike one has risen, does not every woman eagerly go at once to her beloved?

See how, in haste, the flock of young women with their fluttering garments spreads out all around; Hari fixes his eyes upon your path -- cast your loving glance, and move your feet toward him.

Thus instructing her own friend, who out of feigned pride had turned away, Lalita then led her almost forcibly, swiftly, to Krishna -- may that same Hari grant you all good fortune.