LXVI.
Krishna: 'Why veil your face, dear beautiful?
You've stolen my wits away:
You have no dread of slaying men,
Your courage is unbounded!
'O wrathful lady, my heart is frenzied,
No more I may sustain the pangs of Madan,
But come to you for refuge.
'Whether two towering hills, or cups of gold,
I gaze and cannot tell:
And on each breast is Shambhu reverenced,
Framed in his crescent moon.
'I fain would touch them with these lotus hands
If fate be not forbidding:
I seek a sanctuary at your feet—
(O that the damsel may be kind!)'
Seeing her restlessness, I was distraught.
My heart beat fast.
Hearken, young damsel, says Vidyāpati:
Bestow some boon on Kāna.
LXVII.
Krishna: Hearken, hearken, worthy Rādhā,
For what offence do you refuse my company?
How many stars have risen in the sky,
But the moon is another Avatār!
What more in special can I say?
In a host of a myriad Lakshmīs I have eyes for none.