On your flesh, scratched by nails in erotic battle,
a record of a lover’s triumph has been saved,
Like a victory proclamation on a golden plate
that with an emerald stylus has been engraved.
O God! God! Krishna, go away, you with lotus eyes,
go, Krishna, and stop telling me your lies, yes, go, go
to be with her, the girl who so dispels your woe.

8.5

Lac dripped from lotus feet onto your noble breast
leaves stains that seem to me
Fresh blossoms fallen from branches
of the Love god’s hallowed tree.
O God! God! Krishna, go away, you with lotus eyes,
go, Krishna, and stop telling me your lies, yes, go, go
to be with her, the girl who so dispels your woe.

The bite wounds on your lower lip
so distress my heart
that it seems we are still one
though we’ve been so long apart?
O God! God! Krishna, go away, you with lotus eyes,
go, Krishna, and stop telling me your lies, yes, go, go
to be with her, the girl who so dispels your woe.