translation:

"Yea Lady! in the self-same spot he waits

Where with thy kiss thou taught'st him utmost love,

And drew him, as none else draws, with thy look;

And all day long, and all night long, his cry

Is 'Radha, Radha' like a spell said o'er

And in his heart there lives no wish nor hope

Save only this, to slake his spirit's thirst

For Radha's love with Radha's lips; and find

Peace on the immortal beauty of thy breast.

(What follows is the Music Gurjjari and the Mode Ekatali.)

Mistress, sweet and bright and holy!

Meet him in that place;

Change his cheerless melancholy

Into joy and grace;

If thou hast forgiven, vex not:

If thou lovest, go,

Watching ever by the river,

Krishna listens low:

Listens low, and on his reed there

Softly sounds thy name,

Making even mute things plead there

For his hope: 'tis shame

That, while winds are welcome to him,

If from thee they blow,

Mournful ever by the river

Krishna waits thee so!

When a bird's wing stirs the roses,

When a leaf falls dead,

Twenty times he recomposes

The flower-seat he has spread:

Twenty-times, with anxious glances

Seeking thee in vain,

Sighing ever by the river,

Krishna droops again.

Loosen from thy foot the bangle,

Lest its golden bell,

With a tiny tattling jangle,

Any false tale tell:

If though fearest the moonlight

Will thy glad face know,

Draw those dark braids lower, Lady!

But to Krishna go.

Swift and still as lightning's splendour

Let thy beauty come.

Sudden, gracious, dazzling, tender,

To his arms---its home.

Swift as Indra's yellow lightning,

Shining through the night,

Glide to Krishna's lonely bosom,

Take him love and light.

Grant, at last, love's utmost measure,

Giving the whole:

Keep back nothing of the treasure

Of thy priceless soul:

Hold with both hands out unto him

Thy chalice, let him drain

The nectar of its dearest draught,

Till not a wish remain.

Only go---the stars are setting,

And thy Krishna grieves;

Doubt and anger quite forgetting,

Hasten through the leaves:

Wherefore didst thou lead him heav'nward

But for this thing's sake?

Comfort him with pity, Radha!

Or his heart must break.

But while Jayadeva writes

This rare tale of deep delights---

Jayadev, whose heart is given

Unto Jari, Lord in Heaven---

See that ye too, as ye read,

With a glad and humble heed,

Bend your brows before His face,

That he may have bliss and grace."