Navastakam

O mind, worship Radha, unfathomable in mellows — the fair queen of Vraja's pastureland, dearer than life to the Lifter of the Mountain, who purifies the very path with the offering of half her own life's breath, affectionately teased by her companion Lalita, and gently attended by Visakha.

O mind, worship Radha, unfathomable in mellows — she who, in the bower near her beloved's lake, alive with the hum of bees drawn to fragrant blossoms, repeatedly attends, together with Hari, the minister of Cupid, to the business of that intoxicated realm of love.

O mind, worship Radha, unfathomable in mellows — she who, by clever turns of speech, parries the playful advances of that sportive one, her own passion rising with the waves of his sidelong glances; who, tasting the company of her blooming, joyful sakhis, has reached the very height of loving madness.

O mind, worship Radha, unfathomable in mellows — she who, having won at dice against the slayer of Agha, smiling, drinks without dispute, twice, from his bimba-red lips as the wager, filled with joy and swelling pride; who strikes him with a lotus, her eyes turned at the corner, smiling as her hairs stand on end.

O mind, worship Radha, unfathomable in mellows — she who, resting her hand on the shoulder of the enemy of Baka, greatly maddened with intimate friendship, gazes on the beauty of the fresh forest as spring rises around them; who joyfully sets at her beloved's ear a fresh young leaf-shoot scattered there in love by Visakha.

O mind, worship Radha, unfathomable in mellows — she who, while Hari feigns sleep on a bed of abundant flowers in a cave of Govardhana hill, steals his flute and even snatches his garland; who, when he, smiling, seizes her close by the neck as she tries eagerly to slip away, restrains her heaving breast with both hands.

O mind, worship Radha, unfathomable in mellows — she who, quickly driving the cows homeward with her sakhis, entering Vraja, gazes at his face with reeling, longing, dancing eyes of youth; the dark one whom she stirs all the more with the weight of her own dark sidelong glances, her every gesture shaming even the lotus.

O mind, worship Radha, unfathomable in mellows — she whose ever-rising beauty outshines, again and again, even the most brilliant of the cowherd women, however radiant they may be in their own mellow; who, moving through the auspicious sky of Vraja's finest forest, is ever accompanied, and radiant together with Govinda, the moon.

Whoever, blessed and intelligent, falling flat upon the ground with love, recites this Navastaka clearly and fully, always, with a choked, pleading voice — he, with an overflowing mellow of service, waters with love that nectar-creeper named Radha, on whom the intoxicated bee Mukunda sports and reels, there in the pastoral forest of Vraja.