Prarthanasraya Caturdasaka

On Dipavali, when his mother has lovingly worshiped Govardhana hill amid the eager songs of radiant women, behold! the Mountain-holder, bearing the beauty of hand-prints drawn on the back with turmeric water, makes the cows frolic with his thundering, cloud-like calls.

In front, together with the cows, go the chief men of Vraja headed by the king of Vraja; behind them follow all the women of Vraja with the queen of Vraja. Then the moon of Vraja, engaged in various joking with his band of friends, circles the hill on pretexts, glancing at Radha, O friend.

That youthful divine couple, who give life to the world by distributing the rising nectar of their mercy, who perfume everyone with the fragrance of their virtues' flowers - if they do not shower such mercy upon me, then, O friend, arrange instead that my whole body may dwell at Sri Radha-kunda.

O Lalita and Vishakha, not seeing here that pair, Radha and Mukunda, their limbs fashioned from unrestrained playful joking, nor Sri Gauranga-candra and the two Rupas (Sri Rupa and Sri Sanatana), ah, how many torments must I bear! O my forehead, split open from grief!

At the joyous festival held by the king of Vraja at Nandisvara, Hari, with a sidelong glance, draws out the hidden smile on Radhika's face - just as the sun, with its rays, draws forth the beauty of blossoms from the lotus-vine on the river.

Near the hill, upon the moon-like, sweetly smiling face of the Mountain-holder, secluded Radha's eyes wander under the pretext of playful glances - like an intensely thirsty cakori bird circling the nectar-filled moon above a cloud in the middle of the sky.

Radha, who by her splendor conquers Rati, Gauri, the earth-goddess, Lakshmi, Satyabhama, the hosts of the finest women of Vraja and of the cities, and Candravali — when the Mountain-holder here adorns her, shall I place before him, one by one, each of the articles for that adornment?

Her pair of breasts, which steal the beauty of two golden waterpots gracefully set side by side, swell with fragrance. Ah, when shall I place the fragrant pastes into the hand of the Mountain-holder here, who, thrilled, longs to paint them with fragrant designs?

Whose creeper-like arm rests upon Krishna's shoulder, her hairs standing on end, gazing intently at the beauty of the hill and forest? It is known, it is known, O friend - restless with love, overwhelmed by floods of passion - who else but Radhika could be such a beloved?

He who was always my very life, who here with incomparable mercy sprinkled me with masses of the fragrant, foaming waters of an unprecedented ocean of prema — now, by cruel fortune, I am engulfed at every step by the wildfire of calamity and left without support; to whom but him shall I go for shelter?

For me, bereft of that life, the great pasture-land becomes an empty wilderness, the king of mountains becomes like a python, and the Kunda becomes like a tiger's mouth.

If the body does not fall dead from this grief, what fault is that of the body? For the Creator made it from the hard essence of thunderbolts. Indeed, this too seems - on close reflection - to serve another purpose: for otherwise, who could bear such a manifest weight of torment?

In the groves on the slope of the finest hill, and beside the lovely lake of the lord of Vrndavana, singing the glory of Sri Radhika and Krishna, holding fast to loving devotion, remembering their lotus feet, eating the yogurt and fruits of Vraja, I shall dwell here for all time.

Dwelling in the grove on the slope of the finest hill, murmuring "Sri Radhike!" and "Krishna!", drinking the yogurt and buttermilk of Vraja - O Lord, may all my days pass thus, forever.