Gopinam Kuca Kunkumena Nicitam

"Is his garment reddish because it is dyed by the very kumkum from the gopis' breasts? And why has his fair complexion turned still more golden, as though it had embraced the radiance of molten gold itself?" Because of their tight, clinging embrace, his hairs can be seen standing on end. O friend, behold this astonishing sight: the very teacher of amorous dalliance now wears the garb of a renunciant upon this earth!

He who formerly, roused each day by the loving mellows of Vraja's beautiful women, danced with abandon on the bank of the Kalindi in the great assembly of the rasa dance — that same all-powerful Lord now, in this age of Kali, implants loving attachment in the hearts of all people; dancing himself in ecstatic love, he makes even the crest-jewel of the earth's brahmanas dance along with him.

Whose lotus feet are difficult to reach through the Vedanta, the Agamas, and the whole array of Vedic scriptures, whose mercy illumines the very waves of young Nanda's son's playful dance, and who, the instant he is remembered, becomes an ocean of love flooding forth at once — that son of Sachi, the auspiciousness of this earth's brahmana women, is gloriously victorious!

He who, formerly, as the deep blue-complexioned one, made Vrindavana the sole auspiciousness of the entire universe, drenched by the maddening mellow of love from the cowherd women — that same Lord, now Gaurahari, delighting the whole universe with love, the sole abode of compassion, is gloriously victorious within the land of Gauda!

Radiant in every limb with the sweetest garb, heightened by the great joy of his dancing ecstasy, his broad chest smeared with sandalwood, aguru and kumkum, his bimba-red lips glistening from betel enriched with camphor — the very essence of loveliness that is Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu's form is gloriously victorious!

Radiant like molten gold, his face like the spotless full moon, the ground instantly moistened by the tears streaming from his eyes, his voice choked with emotion — I joyfully worship that son of Sachi, the crest-jewel of all gods, the Lord who is an ocean of compassion.

Radiant with masses of hair standing on end like blossoming kadamba flowers, a stream of tears falling ceaselessly, glittering, from his eyes — we worship that indescribable abode, whose heart is bound by a garland yet whose own sweetness gently shines through, that great dancer maddened by the wine of divine love.

Delighting the heavenly world all around with his two arms raised high and swinging, bewildering the earth with resonant, love-choked cries of "Hari!" from his throat, joyfully drawing even the mountains to himself with the jingling of his ankle-bells as his feet dance about — Nityananda Mahaprabhu, radiant in the garb of a wrestler, is gloriously victorious!

Lord Krishna, beholding all the people of this age of Kali sunk in sin, became manifest as Lord Chaitanya, the very ocean of mercy; of those persons in whom awareness of Krishna does not constantly arise in his presence — shame on them, shame on them, shame, shame! — so does even the mridanga drum itself seem to proclaim.