When safflower flowers form Love’s parasol,
royal gold and open wide,
As begonia blossoms bountiful with bees
seem a quiver of arrows at Love’s side,
In springtime, the sensual season so languorously
long for forlorn lovers,
Krishna strays and plays, my friend,
dancing with young girls.

When at our wanton ways, drooping catkin mouths
of weeping willows laugh,*
As pandan palms’ widespread spears
impale forlorn lovers on Love’s behalf,
In springtime, the sensual season so languorously
long for forlorn lovers,
Krishna strays and plays, my friend,
dancing with young girls.

When honeysuckle scents and perfumes of jasmine*
make young lovers glad,
As those fresh floral fragrances
drive even sages mad,
In springtime, the sensual season so languorously
long for forlorn lovers,
Krishna strays and plays, my friend,
dancing with young girls.