Hearken, brave Kān, to Vidyāpatis advice,—
Preserve your dignity even at cost of life!
XCIII.
Rādhā: Like to the tool that trims the jewels of her toes,
Gokula's darling grovelled on the ground:
Unceasing tears were flowing down his face,
How many ways my love besought me!
O evil day! for I was proud,—
And now my brazen heart declines to die!
Who would have thought black wrath could be so dangerous,
Or that a jewel could be changed to clay?
I have been luckless in my woman's lot:
My refuge is in death, I was too proud!
Hearken, lady Rāi, says Vidyāpati:
I shall explain the reason of your weeping.
ĀKSHEPA ANUYOGA O VIRAHA
XCIV.
Sakhī: The mournful beauty, gazing on Kānu's face,
Was sobbing loud with brimming eyes:
The peerless moon-face, when he said 'Farewell,'
Fell fey upon the ground, with cries of 'Hari, Hari!'
How distractedly did Hari comfort her,—
'Now I shall not go to Mathura':
When this sweet sound reached her ears,
The lovesick nymph revived.
And taking Kānu's hands in hers.
She lifted them to touch her head:
'Say unmistakeably, good Kān, my lord,
'I will not go to Mathura.''