Sankalpa Prakasa Stotra

Without worshipping the dust of Sri Radha's lotus feet, without taking shelter of Vrindavana forest that bears the mark of her footsteps, without conversing with those whose hearts are absorbed deep in her mood — how can one ever plunge into the deep waters of dark Syama's ocean of rasa?

When, sakhi, by the force of Lalita's charming encouragement and in outbursts of affection, will Sri Gandharva, bashfully yet with relish, again and again teach me a new, divine poem of her own composition, a matchless drama, riddles with hidden meanings, and the lovely movement of melody on the vina?

Mukunda, secretly flattering me in order to release the knot of Radha's pride, cries out to me again and again, "Alas, alas!" For that reason, seeing me fallen at Gandharva's feet with a suspicious glance, when will fierce Lalita, out of the very harshness born of her love, rebuke me?

Joyfully, amid clever wit, charmingly blending fresh camphor into betel, bursting with abundant playful jokes, in preparing the sweet madhvika drink, proudly, overwhelmed with love, for the sake of Gandharva and Giridhari, may Visakha, the sakhi and guru of that divine pair, bestow her teaching upon me.

May Visakha graciously bestow upon me lovely training in the singing of her chorus, more melodious even than the cuckoo, so that through it I may delight the youthful divine pair along with the assembly of sakhis, and thereby, again and again, receive from that rasa the very necklaces of jewels bestowed by them.

Sometimes, in bower after bower, when my mistress Radha meets Gopala by some pretext at midday, surrounded by her most beloved host of sakhis, when, trained in the art of cooking by Campakalata, will this person feed them there with foods more delicious than nectar?

Sometimes, O sakhi, in the bower's arena, when the intense passions of the young couple of Vraja create a wondrous array of marks from the fierce ardor of Kama's battle, will this trained person again joyfully and variously decorate the place abundantly with heaps of leaves?

In the supremely exalted assembly of young women, she who by her wondrous, manifest skills clearly triumphs over the rival women headed by Padma — O sakhi, may I too become accomplished as a repository of various arts through her, so that what further need would I have of mere stolen glances secretly cast under some pretext by Srinatha?

In the fashioning of garlands from shining pearls, gunja-berries, jewels, and flowers, may Indulekha joyfully teach me her method, so that with garlands thus made, in the abode amid the beloved lake, this person too may adorn Radha and Krishna.

Ah, if she who is skilled in dance formerly teaches, in the dance-arena, the array of dances desired by the goddess, overflowing with the nectarean rasa of that art, then, O sakhi, while the two of them perform their graceful, rasa-filled dance visible to all, may I, again and again, place betel into the mouths of that dancing pair.

May that noble goddess likewise teach me here the skillful art of games, amid the divine gathering of Gokula's lovely-eyed women, so that when the pair engage in playful contest, I, through secret glances, may make her victorious over Srinatha.

Secretly, even through a parrot as messenger, a verse composed with an exceedingly difficult hidden meaning, written on a lotus petal and sent by Krishna, who steals away rising longing with flattering words, having fully understood it, when, at night, shall I swiftly lead my mistress to the foot of a cave of Govardhana, the king of mountains, near that place?

Bearing fully the burden of Kama's battle upon the cave's rocky floor, the two of them, striving to conquer each other, pierced by the sharp, darting arrows of their glances, their bodies growing moist with the effort, marked by the weapons of nails and teeth as restraint gives way, shall I indeed remain there in the darkness at that hour, just to behold them?

Having brought to completion the matchless battle in Kama's arena, when the two of them, their bodies merged, fall asleep, then, O sakhi, remaining hidden nearby and swiftly, eagerly drawing close to that pair, when shall I serve them, fan in hand, with a cluster of flowers?

Joyfully, in the bower amid swarms of humming bees, having prepared a bed of flowers and arranged garlands, fragrant kunkuma powder, sweet drink, and rolls of betel, so that the eager-hearted pair may again enjoy their amorous pastimes there, O moon-faced one, what shall I not do to please them?

When, having seen Radha asleep in the bower upon Hari's chest, her bodily luster outshining a freshly blossomed blue lotus and her radiance surpassing the richness of gold, resembling, steady in a fresh dark cloud in the sky, the splendor of flashing lightning, shall I, again and again, make the sound of warding off the evil eye from her?

When, having forgotten in their amorous play a splendid jeweled ornament that slipped off amid the great delight, Radha comes quickly, fearfully and bashfully, into the assembly of her dearest sakhis, when will the glorious Lord, smiling, through sidelong glances unnoticed by her, swiftly send me, his own servant, to fetch it back for her?

Sometimes, though delighting Candravali and her companions Padma, Saibya, and the rest with abundant joyous, loving talk, Aghahari, when even a fraction of my glance falls upon him and fills him with confusion, mutters "Where is Radha?" and thereby casts gloom over all these rival women.

Proudly blocking Krishna's way, along with fierce Lalita and her other companions, Radha then, out of a queenly pride, demands her toll from Giridhari, O sakhi, as he seeks to collect his own; by the force of the urging glances of my Lord directed at Visakha, may she, having thus received them and carrying off her feigned anger, cast some of that mercy upon us here as well.

"Your two breasts are like mountains, your hips like a laden cart, and truly my boat is old and frail — see how turbulent the river is with wind! How will you cross further? Better stay here tonight" — hearing these words of Hari, may Radha, feigning anger, make me smile with the memory of that scene.

This very aspiration, nurtured within the bower of my own heart, has borne fruit merely by touching the breeze of that single divine melody; in its presence I shall joyously worship that youthful couple, resplendent with the beauty of Kama, together with the multitude of their dear associates — here, thus, what more could I want?