“Ah, my beloved! taken with those glances;
Ah, my beloved! dancing those rash dances;
Ah, minstrel! playing wrongful strains so well;
Ah, Krishna, Krishna, with the honeyed lip!
Ah, wanderer into foolish fellowship!
My dancer, my delight! I love thee still.
“O dancer! strip thy peacock crown away;
Rise! thou whose forehead is the star of day,
With beauty for its silver halo set;
Come! thou whose greatness gleams beneath its shroud,