Winds from the Malabar Mountains,
fuming with the venom of serpents burrowed there,
blow towards the lordly Himalaya,
longing to bathe in its snows;
And the voices of cuckoos, delighted by the first sight
of buds on gooey mango branches,
ring out shrill and sweet: “Coo-coo coo-coo.”

As the belle-browed milkmaids whirled around Krishna
in the risque rapture of the rasa roundelay,
Among them, Radha, blind with love, ardently
caressed his chest;
“Oh, wonderful!” she cried, “Your mouth flows
with nectar!”
Thus she praised a kiss under the pretext of lauding a song.
May the ravishing smile of Hari-Krishna sustain you!