11.5

O girl with thighs like elephant trunks,
see that clump of vines—it seems to form a hand,
And shaken by the breeze, its fingers gesture:
“Do not dally!” they command.
Krishna’s obliging, dear Radha—so go to him!

Do your breasts not ache for Krishna’s caress,
on billows of love to bounce and swirl
With the purling waters of your necklace,
each droplet a pellucid pearl?
Krishna’s obliging, dear Radha—so go to him!

Your allies all agree that you, warrioress,
are ready to launch erotic attack;
Sound the war drums, your girdle bells,
And go boldly into battle, holding nothing back;
Krishna’s obliging, dear Radha—so go to him!

Go to Krishna to play that war game,
and take along an ally;
your weapons, Love’s five arrows, are the nails
on your hand.
With the jingling of your bangles give fair warning
of your siege,
that your beloved enemy can take his battle stand.
Krishna’s obliging, dear Radha—so go to him!