Karpanya Panjika Stotra

Standing in a grove of Vrindavana forest, this wretched person offers his petition at the lotus feet of the Lord and Lady of Vrindavana forest.

I petition you two, whose radiance defeats the beauty of a whole mass of fresh blue lotuses, and whose golden hue devours the very pride of lovely gorocana pigment.

You two: one whose shimmering garment mocks the beauty of a mass of pure gold, and the other, resplendent in a garment that steals away the very rays of the kimshuka flower.

You two — one of whom is the emerald crest-jewel worn on the heads of all youths, while the other is the jasmine flower crowning the braided hair of all the young girls of the cowherd settlement.

You two: one whose form surpasses even the beauty of his own forms headed by Lakshmi's husband, and the other whose elegance astonishes even the whole company of Vraja's women, brilliant as Lakshmi herself.

One of you, whose fragrance captivates Gandharva (Radha), while the other's fragrance maddens Madhava; one whose flute holds Radha spellbound, while the other's vina enchants the infallible Lord.

Krishna, whose restless, roving eyes are the very thieves that steal away the wealth of Radha's composure; and Radha, the bee of whose artful sidelong glance has stung Krishna's lotus heart.

Krishna, who is silenced by the sheer mastery of Radha's own secret jesting; and Radha, whose creeper-like body bristles with delight at the playful words of the son of the King of Vraja.

Krishna, who is the very mountain from which rise the rows of divine, transcendental jewel-like qualities; and Radha, whose abundance of qualities is longed for even by the assembled beautiful goddesses headed by Uma.

To you, O Lord of Vrindavana, and to you, O Queen of Vrindavana, glorifying you both with plaintive cries, this lowly person now offers his prayer.

Even though I possess no qualification whatsoever to obtain your mercy, still, since you two are the very crown of all who are supremely merciful, kindly bestow your mercy upon me nonetheless.

O you two, worshiped by the lords of the worlds, in this world the supremely merciful are seen to be overwhelmed with compassion even toward one who is unqualified and offensive.

I possess not even the faintest semblance of the devotion that is the true cause of your compassion; yet, through your own delight in your great pastimes, be pleased with me even so.

Ah, my two masters, many great lords of great pastimes on this earth have been seen to be gracious even toward a person who is wicked and without devotion.

Even though this creature, lowest of all, thinks himself the best; ignorant, thinks himself wise; wicked, thinks himself virtuous; and has committed offenses —

— still, O my two sovereigns, be pleased sometime with this person who merely mutters your names, for even the faintest semblance of your holy names delivers one from a whole multitude of faults.

Whatever offense might otherwise be unforgivable is forgiven by even a single fragment of devotion to you two, and simply ceases to exist; hoping in this, I offer my prayer.

Ah, though this soul is utterly powerless, he has been driven by sheer desperation to this boldness; again and again he prays, O my two masters — let some measure of your grace overflow upon him.

This sinful creature, weeping loudly, a blade of straw held between his teeth, cries out, "O my masters, my masters!" and sinks down helplessly right here — be pleased with him.

Making cries of "ha, ha," this unfortunate person begs of you: O my two Lords, hear this plaintive cry of mine, hear my plaintive cry!

Sobbing and gasping again and again, overwhelmed with plaintive cries, I beg of you: O you two oceans of compassion, be pleased with this person, unworthy though he is.

Crying out in a voice full of anguish, his thumb placed in his mouth, this person begs: O my two masters, grant, do grant, even the tiniest particle of your compassion.

With a voice full of humility, weeping, this person of exceedingly dull intelligence begs: may your two hearts, so full of compassion, scatter forth even a mere ripple from the waves of that compassion.

Whatever sweet sentiments exist anywhere at all within the heart, sweeter even than all of those, graciously bestow upon me your own sweet love.

O you two gods, today I desire nothing else at all except your service alone; ah, may you both become gracious and favorably disposed toward me.

This alone is my one and only entreaty, O you two who are so affectionately disposed to the protectorless: graciously bestow upon this person your own direct service.

Placing his folded hands upon his head, this humble person begs: let the fulfillment of his cherished desire come to pass, even if only once.

When will your own spotless fragrance, spreading its scent throughout the forest, set my very sense of smell reeling with priceless delight?

When will the charming, gentle tinkling of your anklets, which puts to shame the cooing of swans, delight my very ears?

When, beholding your feet in Vrindavana, marked with the auspicious signs of the wheel and other such emblems, will this person become overwhelmed with joyous madness?

O you two whose lotus feet are worshiped with the very lamp of all beauty's own standard, when will you grant my eyes their most unprecedented festival of seeing you?

When, in this very existence, will you two become directly present before this person's eyes, granting the sight of your lotus feet as the fruit of his long-cherished hope?

When shall I behold you two, so beautifully arisen, sporting together within the recess of a bower in Vrindavana forest, from not too great a distance?

When, through an exchange of secret messages between you both, you two who because of your elders' authority sometimes find it so hard even to glimpse one another, shall I bring you joy?

When, as the two of you search for one another within Vrindavana, shall I unite you together and receive, as my reward, your own joyful gratitude?

When shall I watch your quarrel over a game of dice, your hands eager to snatch away each other's necklaces staked as wagers, each of you boasting of victory?

When, as the two of you lie together upon a bed of flowers in the forest bower, will this person finally get to massage your feet?

When, within a bower of vines, will you both engage me in restringing your garlands, broken apart in the playful lovers' quarrel stirred up by Kamadeva?

O you two rulers of Vrindavana, when shall I adorn with peacock feathers your hair, loosened and disheveled by the waves of your own playful sport?

When shall I brighten the pair of your foreheads with fresh tilaka, once your own decorations have been undone by the very skill of your amorous play?

O goddess, when, at the very start of your play, will this person adorn your eyes with kajal and your forms with forest garlands, within the pavilion of the bower?

When will this person prepare gold-hued betel leaves and place them in your two lotus mouths?

Where am I, a doer of such wicked deeds, and where is this kind of petition I make to you two? Yet whom, indeed, does your own sweetness not drive to utter madness?

By that very mercy through which even this unworthy creature has been drawn to dwell in Vrindavana, O my two masters, grant now the fulfillment of my cherished desire.

O you two dancers of Vrindavana forest, may the desire of this creature be fulfilled who, though merely reciting with his voice this very Register of Wretchedness, does so always.