Post by gerard on Aug 28, 2010 10:51:26 GMT -6
As the Siksastakam is a foundational text of CV so is Lilasuka Bilvamangala Thakur's "Krishnakarnamrita". This is the translation by Hayeshvar das published as "Krishna's Nectar for the Ear", Sri Chaitanya Gemeenschap Amsterdam 1986.
Introduction
About the author of Sri Krishnakarnamrita little is known. He was a South Indian brahmin, who probably lived in the 13th century. One author (Gada, in Sarnpradayakuladipika, 1554) claims that the famous Jayadeva, the poet of the Gita Govinda, was his incarnation. As of other saintly persons, also of Bilvamangala the story is told that in order to prevent himself from being attracted by the beauty of the women of this world, he stuck out his eyes with the hairpins of a lady to whose charms he had succumbed. In this way he furthered the development of his inner vision, which ultimately led to his writing of Sri Krishnakarnamrita.
Sri Chaitanya only knew the 112 poems translated here. There are two more shatakas, of 110 and of 106 verses respectively, treating the same theme in ever changing perspective. The poems are written in widely varying classical Sanskrit metres, most of which cannot be rendered into English by me. In this versification I have chosen for a standard metre of simple couplets, so that my efforts at capturing the spirit of the exceedinly mellifluous and unabashedly alliterating original would not be thwarted by back-firing endeavours at realizing metrical accuracy.
Hail to Chintamani, who saved me.
My teacher, Somagiri, hail.
And hail to You, my Siksha-guru,
Whose feet with tender toe and nail
Are like the shoots of a desire tree,
Under which Triumph's goddess, Sri,
Feels like a playful girl who chooses
Her husband very happily. (1)
Behold Him, blessed by wish tree blossoms
From heaven's maidens' slender hands.
Producing floods of flowing flute notes,
Serene and ever free, He stands.
His loftiest form is of the Cow-lad,
Releasing all who He converts,
As He released the thronging milkmaids,
Who tightly held their loosened skirts. (2)
The independent Lord of sweetness,
The dark blue Boy, we here adore,
The Father of the reborn love-god,
The Lover of Kalindi's shore,
Whose nectar-bathed seductive glances
Awe Lakshmi's lively sidelong gaze,
Love's deepest cause and highest purpose,
Matting His eyes with languid haze. (3)
Adorned with lustrous peacock feather,
Here stands the radiant primal Youth,
His face immersed in tender sweetness,
While nectar sprinkles from His flute,
Surrounded by adoring milkmaids
With swelling flower-bud-like breasts –
May we be dazzled by His splendour,
And all the world be thrilled and blessed. (4)
His lotus face illuminated
With a most sweet ambrosial smile,
His charming hair mass decorated
With plumes of the mad peacock’ s tail...
Let Him light up once and forever
My mind, which virtually dies
To wolf the poisoned meat of matter,
With the effulgence of His eyes. (5)
His eyes unfold like lotus petals...
The shiny soft cheeks of the Lord
Inflate with honey of his flute notes...
May thus His face bloom in my heart. (6)
May just one sprinkling of the sweetness
Of young Murari's artless stance
And of His moon face wooed by flute notes
Pervade my words and make them dance. (7)
Crowned with the plumes of the mad peacock,
Besmeared with Vraja's damsels' kohl,
His artless mouth languid with longing –
My poetry's triumphant Soul! (8)
His lotus hands, sprout-like and rosy,
Hold up His flute, vibrant with sound.
His lotus feet defy the pinkness
Of patalis blown full and round.
His lower lip blossoms with splendour,
The lusty essence of His face.
My saving Lord - on Whom the kunkum
Of milkmaids' breasts leaves many a trace. (9)
We seek refuge in You, o Master,
The constant aim of a closed line Of glances thrown by cowherd damsels,
Who love's decree causes to shine. (10)
The Youth moving among the beauties
Of Vraja stirs their inner core,
Making their eyes widen and flicker -
O Bright One, bless me more and more. (11)
They are the only place existent
Where Lakshmi's play does never pause;
They devastate the ostentation
Of blooming lotuses in rows;
They render the surrendered fearless
And hover far above the vain –
O lotus feet of Lord Sri Krishna,
Carry my heart to your domain. (12)
Let Him whose eyes widen and sparkle
With brightening limpidity,
And every day anew are novel
In their primal cupidity,
And with the fullness of their longing
Support His superiority –
Let Him, Lord of our lives, the Fledgeling,
Enter our inferiority. (13)
O let my mind float all along now
With ecstasy's engulfing wave,
Arising from the Young One's love play,
That makes the heart both spin and crave,
As a faint smile sends a slow quiver
Across the full moon of His face –
A veritable flood of rapture
In sweet affection's endless seas. (14)
His lotus face, of natural beauty,
Displays His charming innocence,
As He enjoys the lively sound waves
Leaving the flute in His own hands.
He is the vitalizing Bright One
Living in every creature's heart.
May in my heart as its own life force
His rosy lotus feet now sport. (15)
I offer my obeisances
Unto the chitter-chatter sound
Of Lord Sri Krishna's jewelled anklets
And to His footprints all around. (16)
O let my mind always be full of
The sound with which the milkmaids' Lord
Is moving His bejewelled anklets
With many a sweet jingling chord,
Which is respectfully acknowledged
By the melodious cries of the swans,
Floating about all through the forest
In Sri Yamuna’ s lotus ponds. (17)
His rosy eyes, full of compassion,
And large, keep roving everywhere;
When Kamla's full breasts touch His body,
It shows the bristling of His hair;
The minds of silent sages flutter
When flute notes, wavering, depart
From His sweet lips... Ambrosial One, o
Frolic about in my fond heart. (18)
With tender lotus eyes half openi
The primal Person as a Lad
Kisses the sweet and moon-like faces -
Raising their hair, driving them mad –
Of all the married girls of Vraja
Thronging about Him in the woods...
I pray that through His flute’ s vibration
My mind may witness His fond moods. (19)
With bracelets musically jingling
Some yellow cloth is kept in place;
A peacock feather-crest is slipping
As tresses fall before a face;
The Lord's dear form, of fickle nature.
Is fettered by His Consort’ s arms –
May thus my heart behold His glory! -
When He attempts to flee love's charms. (20)
Although held back, a mild smile trickles
Across His features, drop by drop,
While with a full display of love sprouts
His body's hair is standing up:
He cannot help hearing -it's so charming! -
What Vraja's married damsels say...
We honour the pretended sleep of
The Lord who closed His eyes in play. (21)
Enter the woods with their bright foliage,
Or else enter the milkmaids’ breasts!
For one who spurns Vrindavan's dancers
No other worship manifests. (22)
Accompanied by perfect flute notes,
Vibrating with nectarean joy, ,
Anointed Head of all sweet beings -
When indeed shall I see You, Boy? (23)
When will the Child with peacock feather
And with the gentle honey smile
Flowing across His tender moon face
Appear and soothe our eyes a while? (24)
In those repeated sidelong glances,
Showing varieties of grace,
In the effulgence of a childhood
Newly adopting youthful ways,
And in Your miracles of magic
Sustaining the whole universe,
Sri Krishna, as in rays of moonlight,
Do here and now my eyes immerse. (25)
When wilt He cast His sidelong glances
With dark Kalindi-lily eyes
In my direction, trembling slightly,
As waves of mercy gently rise?
And when will His appeasing flute play,
As soothing as once was the moon
On the coiled locks of love’ s opponent,
Gladden my heart? Let it be soon... (26)
Your words so sweet, Your eyes so restless,
Your graceful stride so strong and gay...
O Lord, Your smile -intoxicating...
Your love so deep... (The milkmaids say.) (27)
The glory which is manifesting
In Your broad smile, Your large wide eyes,
Which is embraced by Vraja's damsels
With their full arms and breasts and thighs,
Which endlessly produces showers
Of lovely bright blue flower swirls –
May I behold this beauteous glory,
Which is the joy of the three worlds. (28)
Send me the mercy of Your glances,
That dance to Your flute's melody:
Thus blessed, I need no other rescue;
If not, nothing can rescue me. (29)
I simply place my palms together
To offer You my humble prayer,
My voice being forced out by ceaseless
And growing grief I cannot bear:
“O Supreme Lord, Ocean of mercy,
Let of the generosity
Of Your nectarean sidelong glances
One single drop fall upon me.” (30)
Unsteadiness has overcome us:
We want to see Him as a Child -
With peacock feather in His top-knot,
Well-tied and elegantly styled,
Enticing Vraja's shapely damsels
To fix their lotus eyes on Him
Lifting His round-cheeked face so bright as
To make the lotus moon look dim. (31)
If You would notice that Your childhood
Of wonders is the most sublime,
Then You would understand my longing
As I am doing all the time,
And out of Your kind understanding
You would explain how I may see,
Sometimes, Your lotus face, so lovely,
As You play on Your murali. (32)
Your words are simply overflowing
With nectar, as You twist them round,
While Your large eyes with sweeping flashes
In boyishness superabound:
Thus making speeches to the milkmaids
You let the passion in them rise
At the same time creating havoc
In the composure of the wise. (33)
O when again will the vast ocean
Of mercy tumble down on me
To devastate my meditation
Upon the Light in all that be
By taking on the gracious brilliance
Of a Boy's face shaped like the moon,
Enveloped by the flowing nectar
Of flute notes of a playful tune. (34)
Casting about His restless glances,
So simple and so innocent,
He sends my mind reeling and spinning -
Unparalleled predicament!
How dearly I desire to hold Him
Embraced in my unsteady gaze –
The Boy, who is the life elixir,
Setting my heart and soul ablaze. (35)
By how Your lower lip is trembling,
By Your sweet flute's abundant art,
Indeed, by any such attraction -
Alas! Alas! - You pierce my heart... (36)
Before afflictions come to strike me,
O Lord, and loosen every joint,
May the effulgence of Your moon face
Double the rapture of my mind. (37)
Before the tenth age of man’ s lifetime -
Because of some deficiency –
Approaches, as is bound to happen,
To blot out everything for me,
Let me behold Your full-blown moon face
Enveloped in Your venu's sound,
Presenting to Your charm's perfections
A transcendental pleasure ground. (38)
I lend my ear to the gay jingling
Of anklets of fine jewelry,
Tenderly echoed by the flute notes -
In rising waves that come to me –
Of the great Ocean of compassion,
Whose crests are covered with the light –
Meandering in merry currents -
Of two eyes flashing left and right. (39)
O my sweet Lord, o restless Krishna,
O only Friend of all that be,
O Master, Lover, o Beloved,
O Mercy's one and only Sea,
O You who are of my perception
The sole and singular delight,
O when, o when will You appear as
The lasting shelter of my sight... (40)
Hari, o Friend of the defenceless,
Compassion's one and only Sea,
These wretched days without Your presence –
How shall I pass them, please, tell me! (41)
What to do? To whom shall I speak now?
Things past should not again begin.
Let us discuss a happier subject.
But o, my heart -He lies within!
His smile and shape, sweeter than sweetness.
Intoxicate my mind and eye...
My wretched, wretched thirst for Krishna
Goes on increasing every day! (42)
To keep my vision fixed upon Him,
The Child with lotus eyes a-glow...
Or once to throw my arms around Him...
Wmil Fate ever allow me? O! (43)
With smiles of everlasting freshness
And with Your dawn-red lower lip,
From which in tender exaltation
A flute song flows all the way up,
While Your sweet eyes, a little widened,
Move everywhere in scanning course –
O when indeed shall I catch sight of
That lovely lotus face of Yours? (44)
As soothing as a balm, deep dawn-red,
His lotus eyes are full of joy,
As they glance left and right and wander...
When will He look at me - this Boy? (45)
My eyes are always chasing after
Murari in His boyhood fair,
Adorned with a bright peacock feather
Crowning the thick mass of His hair,
Standing with tender lips a-tremble
And eyes that flicker all the while –
The Lifter of Mandara Mountain -
While smiling His sweet honey smile. (46)
We crave to capture the abundance
Of Sweetness of the purest kind,
Which by the rapture of Its glances
Pleases the world out of its mind,
While languid after the exertion
Of stealing the dark rain cloud’ s shade,
Its lotus face still sports the chaplet
Of a mad peacock’ s feathers made. (47)
While sages push on searching for Him
Along austerity's harsh trace,
The girls of Vraja always gaze at
The wonder of His lotus face.
One cannot find Him in the verses
Of wisdom which the Vedas sing.
When shall I see my God as blue as
A water lily opening... (48)
He looks about in mock confusion,
His playful lotus face a-tilt,
While from the hollow of His venu
A jesting tune is being spilled.
Delighting everybody's vision,
His eyes keep flashing left and right.
O God, o when indeed, Beloved,
You appear before my sight? (49)
The mind, incessantly attentive,
Portrays in perfect rakish style
Mukunda in His tender boyhood
Without a standstill all the while -
Pleasing the connoisseur of mellows –
Under a moon that gently dips
His round-cheeked face in rays of honey,
That glistens on His smiling lips. (50)
For You, my God, my heart is pining -
To witness how Your lotus eyes
In utter beauty are pressed open
By multitudes of warming rays,
And how the sweetness of Your moon face
Becomes delirious with delight
When You defeat the girls of Vraja
In yet another amorous fight. (51)
For You, my God, my heart is pining –
O lake of nectar pure and dense
Of tuneful notes leaving Your venu
When touched by Your light lotus hands...
And o, the sweetness of the jewel,
Four lower lip, that glowing kiss,
From which forever spurts of laughter
Burst forth out of Your innate bliss. (52)
For You, my God, my heart is pining -
For the bright saffron which was pressed
By the full breasts of ardent gopis,
Hit by love's arrows, on Your chest;
And for that all-attractive sweetness,
Ever increasing with a grace
Which was embezzled from the moonlight -
The soft smile on Your lotus face. (53)
With lashes black and thick and shiny
And eyebrows beautifully lined,
With glances amorous and dancing
And speeches gentle and refined,
With rosy lower lip all nectar
And flute notes madly sweet and clear –
O how I crave for that young Vrajan
Whose magic frees the world from fear. (54)
That grace... Those playful sidelong glances...
That boyishness... That lotus face...
That charm... That languid smile so glorious...
E'en gods reveal thereof no trace. (55)
His mind bent on one single purpose -
Destruction of distress and doom
For every creature in whose being
The flower of faith stands in full bloom –
He comes to us with dark cheeks glowing
In a most fresh and lovely way...
We see Him here on every path now -
Murari -as a Child at play. (56)
With peacock feather in His top-knot,
His body like an emerald tree,
A thrilling smile lighting His features,
His Boy's eyes glittering with glee,
Of humble speech but of proud bearing
Like a mad elephant at large –
O who is He who thus so calmly
Comes through Mathura's city arch? (57)
His feet outshine the lotus fountains
And offer certainty to Sri.
His fingers fondly fashion flute notes,
Crowning their art most gracefully.
His arms create a jar of passion,
Laving the fawn-eyed girls with love.
His moon face is beyond description...
O brilliant Boy come from above! (58)
He needs no other decoration
Than a bright peacock's tail-plume tip.
His face is bathed in waves of beauty
From His effulgent lower lip.
His glory baffles the weak-minded
With its variegated ways.
How bright, how bright, indeed how dazzling,
How bright and dazzling is this blaze! (59)
The dazzling glory of His pastimes
Attains its perfect plenitude
Before me and behind and elsewhere,
As truly by my eyes is viewed -
But o! Alas! How can it be then
That I cannot touch Him with my hands?
My craving for this Boy, o mother,
Fills the three worlds to their far ends. (60)
When shall I see His wavy hair mass,
His face and lower lip so sweet,
As He speaks gently with eyes widened,
That wily Boy - o when indeed! (61)
"Protect us, o Abode of mercy!”
Although we just keep crying out,
Friend of wretched, will You hear us
Amid those flute notes sweet and loud? (62)
What great calamity must happen
Before the Sea of Clemency ,
With the mild breeze of early boyhood,
Will fix Its large wide gaze on me? (63)
Your lower lip swelling with sweetness,
Your lazy smile's gracious expanse,
The soothing nectar of Your speeches,
The freshness of Your darting glance,
Your rosy eyes agaze and brilliant,
Your flute notes sounding far and wide,
The saphire blueness of Your body -
O my dear Boy, where do You hide? (64)
Sweeter indeed He is than sweetness,
The love-god's Father as a Child,
More fanciful indeed than fancy...
Save me - my mind is going wild! (65)
With His blue chest expanded smoothly,
His elongated lotus eyes,
His lazy smile sweeter than honey, A
His words exciting and unwise,
His lower Zip round like a berry,
His hauntingly melodious flute –
O when indeed shall I behold Him,
The Treasury of joyous moods... (66)
His eyes are heavy with the burden
Of tenderness filling His gaze.
His lips are sweetened with the nectar
Of smiles enlivening His face.
He can be seen only when masses
Of pious deeds have been performed –
The Primal as a Human Being
With peacock tail-plume crest adorned. (67)
Is it the god of love appearing
Or a corona of sweet light?
Or is it nothing else but sweetness,
The nectar of the inner sight?
Is it the heart of my existence.
Or else the flute’ s essential joy?
Before my eyes I see arising
The form and features of a Boy. (68)
His face changes the face of heaven –
The darting glances of that Boy!
Dressed as a little village Cowherd,
He milks our eyes brimming with joy. (69)
Approaching with His blue arms swinging
While in the lotus of His face
A smile as gentle as the moonlight,
With lively eyes, quivers and plays,
And with His ornaments all tinkling,
Crowned with a peacock feather crest –
Soothing elixir to my vision -
He makes Himself now manifest. (70)
He is the brilliant decoration
Of the whole cowherd boys' brigade –
This Lad, whose bright and lively glances
Are never ever seen to fade,
And while the smiles on His sweet moon face
Appear to widen more and more,
My heart becomes exhilarated
As He intoxicates its core. (71)
What are those most accomplished flute notes
That dance along the forest lanes?
An outpouring they seem of nothing
But love devoid of earthly strains.
He has appeared from the eternals
The Goal for which I always strive,
The Dear One whom the three worlds worship,
The Supreme Godhead come alive! (72)
He is appearing right before me –
As blue as the tamala tree,
His eyes as flickering and wondrous
As the whole twinkling Galaxy...
And o how joyful, o how joyful
Is the full moon of His bright face!
Enveloped in a whirl of flute notes,
I view the Life of all my days. (73)
The furthest Limit of the fickle,
The only Limit Lakshmi knows;
The furthest Limit of creation,
Further than even Brahma goes;
The furthest Limit of all fragrance
And of fantastic feats untold;
The furthest Limit of good fortune,
The Crown of Vraja's luck – behold! (74)
As with the cataract of nectar
Leaving the flute It renders moist
The garden wherein thrives the worship
Of my intoxicated voice,
With moon face so benign and gentle
That it enthuses all things twice,
The Sum of all my pious merits .
Appears before my gazing eyes. (75)
Obeisances to the Bright One,
Protecting men as well as kine,
Who both in Radha's full embraces
And on the Arch-Snake does recline. (76)
I offer my obeisances
Unto the Bright One -He is here! –
The Origin of all, -whose flute song
Betrays His movements to the ear,
The Lover with auspicious kunkum
Rubbed off on His uncovered chest,
In many amorous embraces,
From cowherdesses' well-raised breasts. (77)
Weighted with gently tinkling anklets
A boyish lotus foot beats time
To a refrain of lovely flute notes...
He lives! -engrossed in play sublime... (78)
O here He is! -with the sweet nectar
Of His melodious murali,
Rousing to passionate attention
This pair of ears, anointing me...
He has appeared! - the one Allegiance
Of these two eyes, their only Friend,
Casting about His sidelong glances
In streams of beauty without end. (79)
With swinging elephantine swagger
My God approaches full of grace,
His eyes effulgently reflecting
My [Radhika's] tender sidelong gaze...
As near He comes He bathes my being
In tunes leaving His murali
Filled by His lips with sound that flows from
Between His gem-like teeth towards me. (80)
Here, here He comes, my Lord and Master,
Whose flute songs are accompanied
By dancing feet that are most wondrous,
The shelter of all men in need...
They move about hither and thither
As highest brightest ornament,
In divine play exhilarating
The threefold world to its far end. (81)
No one but He removed the balance
Of the great sages’ evenness.
No one but He removed the garments
Of every bathing cowherdess.
No one but He removed the hubris
Of lower heaven’s upstart lord.
No one but He removed the lotus
Of blooming love within my heart. (82)
O how my eyes delight in seeing
Knowledge and nescience side by side -
This Glory of complete existence,
Which takes me beyond ebb and tide. (83)
Compared to His effulgent moon face
The moonshine ranks no longer first.
My life and soul, this Boy called Krishna,
Doubles the ocean of my thirst. (84)
His rosy eyes bless all the humble...
Again and yet again my mind
Kisses Murari's lotus face with
That lower lip sweet and refined. (85)
His feet surpass the sprouts of wish trees
In tenderness and vernal charm;
His hands instruct the autumn lotus
How to unfold its finest form;
His eyes, brilliant and large, outdazzle
Their counterparts in the three spheres...
Behold this juvenile Enchanter,
Who makes us shed nectarean tears. (86)
Each day He comes a little closer
With graceful gait and diverse art
And the sweet charm of gentle laughter,
Thus conquering the chastest heart.
Revealing His supreme condition,
Dwarfing the love-god and his spells,
The Lord of rapture overpowers
The sloping breasts of Vraja's belles. (87)
Adorned with the last glow of childhood,
He has become a lively Boy,
His eyes inlaid with sparks of passion,
His smile daft with nectarean joy.
With constant fondness and attention
His lips inspire the murali,
Intoxicating the three regions...
To Him, my Life, all victory! (88)
Those wondrous lotus feet are present!
Those wondrous lotus eyes appear!
That wondrous lotus face I see now!
The Wonder, mother -It is here! (89)
The whole world’ s only decoration,
Adorning the full breasts of Sri,
He is among the pearls of Vraja
The emerald shining brilliantly. (90)
Lord Krishna somehow remains steady,
Although the summer heat makes wet
The circles of His cheeks all shiny
With many a drop of running sweat;
And although His beloved Lakshmi -
After They pulled each others' hair -
Is smudged with streaks of the black ointment
Of His beloved Sri, the Fair. (91)
How sweet, how sweet is the Lord's body,
How sweet, how sweet His face, how sweet!
His gentle smile smelling of honey -
How sweet, how sweet, how sweet, how sweet! (92)
I seek refuge in the world's shelter,
In Him who owns nothing but love,
And who, adorned with peacock feather,
In human form came from above. (93)
However much he meditated,
However scholarly or wise,
No Vedic seer ever saw You
Within his heart or with his eyes.
O Master, therefore, in what matter
Would You be merciful to me
And manifest at last Your features
Before my eyes - that I may see? (94)
O Keshava, what is this lustre
That makes Your moon face look so bright?
And what is this sublime appearance
That no description can do right?
Yes, it is this! O yes, this is it!
Just fold my hands for You I can
To offer my obeisances
Again, again, and yet again. (95)
The moon outdazzled by Your moon face,
O God, falls ten times at Your feet
To rise more luminous than ever...
How great Your mercy is - how sweet. (96)
A lotus risen from the water
How can Your face be just like that?
If words already fail to picture
Each lunar change -what can be said?
What other thing of unique beauty
Is there existent anywhere
Throughout the cosmos, my dear Krishna,
That with Your moon face can compare? (97)
Please lend Your ear with kind attention
To something never said before,
Not even by the matchless poets
Who sang their hymns in days of yore:
The moon should undertake the effort,
Obedient to the ancient rite,
To move around before Your moon face
As a true offering of light. (98)
Your soothing smiles are streams of nectar,
Drowning all other kinds of bliss,
Uniting in a sea of rapture -
O let them be victorious! (99)
Admitted - there are many thousands
Of aestheticians of great fame;
And granted -just as many seekers
Have vowed to grasp charm’ s very frame.
We have no wish to quarrel with them
Or flatter You, but to be true,
O Lord, the climax of attraction
Is only realized in You. (100)
The milkmaids, shy with love and longing,
At once became most indiscreet;
Each ditty brimmed with dripping honey,
As passion's urge became too sweet;
Even my voice was full of sweetness
In melodies that opened wide –
When You descended on this planet...
Even base birth was beautified. (101)
Your residence is the whole cosmos,
And fortune's Goddess is Your dove,
The grand creator is Your offspring,
As is the mighty god of love,
And all the universal rulers
Are humbly serving You, o Lord...
However, greater than these wonders
Is Your exalted amorous sport. (102)
Hail to the kind Lord of the cosmos,
Who bears a musk mark on His brow!
In love with Vraja's shapely damsels,
He does whatever they allow. (103)
No other source of life or longing,
Neither of knowledge, nor of love,
No God, no power, and no life-force
Is there but You, Lord from above. (104)
When we are speaking of Your power,
Do sweetness to our words impart!
When we are thinking of our childhood,
Do agitate our doting heart! (105)
Let now the nectar of Your pastimes,
As tasted by some lucky few -
Such as the mischief of Your childhood,
Radhika's lonely love for You,
And rapture flowing in a wave through
Your lotus mouth into the reed –
Let now this nectar flood my being,
O yes indeed! O yes indeed! (106)
If our devotion unto You, Lord,
Has grown too strong to be destroyed,
You will immerse us in good fortune
As transcendental little Boy:
Then Liberation comes to serve us,
Herself, with bud-wise folded hands,
And Duty, Policy, and Pleasure
Will be awaiting our commands. (107)
O Lord, o glory, glory, glory!
All spheres are blessed by Your sweet Name!
O Krishna, glory, glory, glory!
To soothe ear, mind and eye You came! (108)
I bow unto Your unknown glory,
Which manifests in showers of light
Through pious people whose emotions
Are like deluges of delight...
To You, who are brightly adorning
The glorious Village of the Cow,
To You, Love's Ocean that lies brilliant
Beyond all speech and thought - I bow. (109)
May this array of prayerful poems,
Adorning Vishnu's lotus feet,
Extolling the unending glories
Of Damodar sublime and sweet,
Composed for Him by Lilasuka,
This "Krishna's Nectar For The Ear”-
May it continue to be relished
Beyond a hunderd million years. (110)
Perpetually pouring nectar
Into the madly thirsting ears
Of those who multiply its sweetness
Repeating it with blissfull tears,
This poetry in praise of Krishna,
Who saturates the inner eye
Of the submissive and clear-sighted,
Is heard vibrating in the sky. (111)
May every time I crave to see You
The nectar of Your mural
And Your wide eyes brimming with mercy
Reveal Your majesty to me. (112)
Introduction
About the author of Sri Krishnakarnamrita little is known. He was a South Indian brahmin, who probably lived in the 13th century. One author (Gada, in Sarnpradayakuladipika, 1554) claims that the famous Jayadeva, the poet of the Gita Govinda, was his incarnation. As of other saintly persons, also of Bilvamangala the story is told that in order to prevent himself from being attracted by the beauty of the women of this world, he stuck out his eyes with the hairpins of a lady to whose charms he had succumbed. In this way he furthered the development of his inner vision, which ultimately led to his writing of Sri Krishnakarnamrita.
Sri Chaitanya only knew the 112 poems translated here. There are two more shatakas, of 110 and of 106 verses respectively, treating the same theme in ever changing perspective. The poems are written in widely varying classical Sanskrit metres, most of which cannot be rendered into English by me. In this versification I have chosen for a standard metre of simple couplets, so that my efforts at capturing the spirit of the exceedinly mellifluous and unabashedly alliterating original would not be thwarted by back-firing endeavours at realizing metrical accuracy.
Hail to Chintamani, who saved me.
My teacher, Somagiri, hail.
And hail to You, my Siksha-guru,
Whose feet with tender toe and nail
Are like the shoots of a desire tree,
Under which Triumph's goddess, Sri,
Feels like a playful girl who chooses
Her husband very happily. (1)
Behold Him, blessed by wish tree blossoms
From heaven's maidens' slender hands.
Producing floods of flowing flute notes,
Serene and ever free, He stands.
His loftiest form is of the Cow-lad,
Releasing all who He converts,
As He released the thronging milkmaids,
Who tightly held their loosened skirts. (2)
The independent Lord of sweetness,
The dark blue Boy, we here adore,
The Father of the reborn love-god,
The Lover of Kalindi's shore,
Whose nectar-bathed seductive glances
Awe Lakshmi's lively sidelong gaze,
Love's deepest cause and highest purpose,
Matting His eyes with languid haze. (3)
Adorned with lustrous peacock feather,
Here stands the radiant primal Youth,
His face immersed in tender sweetness,
While nectar sprinkles from His flute,
Surrounded by adoring milkmaids
With swelling flower-bud-like breasts –
May we be dazzled by His splendour,
And all the world be thrilled and blessed. (4)
His lotus face illuminated
With a most sweet ambrosial smile,
His charming hair mass decorated
With plumes of the mad peacock’ s tail...
Let Him light up once and forever
My mind, which virtually dies
To wolf the poisoned meat of matter,
With the effulgence of His eyes. (5)
His eyes unfold like lotus petals...
The shiny soft cheeks of the Lord
Inflate with honey of his flute notes...
May thus His face bloom in my heart. (6)
May just one sprinkling of the sweetness
Of young Murari's artless stance
And of His moon face wooed by flute notes
Pervade my words and make them dance. (7)
Crowned with the plumes of the mad peacock,
Besmeared with Vraja's damsels' kohl,
His artless mouth languid with longing –
My poetry's triumphant Soul! (8)
His lotus hands, sprout-like and rosy,
Hold up His flute, vibrant with sound.
His lotus feet defy the pinkness
Of patalis blown full and round.
His lower lip blossoms with splendour,
The lusty essence of His face.
My saving Lord - on Whom the kunkum
Of milkmaids' breasts leaves many a trace. (9)
We seek refuge in You, o Master,
The constant aim of a closed line Of glances thrown by cowherd damsels,
Who love's decree causes to shine. (10)
The Youth moving among the beauties
Of Vraja stirs their inner core,
Making their eyes widen and flicker -
O Bright One, bless me more and more. (11)
They are the only place existent
Where Lakshmi's play does never pause;
They devastate the ostentation
Of blooming lotuses in rows;
They render the surrendered fearless
And hover far above the vain –
O lotus feet of Lord Sri Krishna,
Carry my heart to your domain. (12)
Let Him whose eyes widen and sparkle
With brightening limpidity,
And every day anew are novel
In their primal cupidity,
And with the fullness of their longing
Support His superiority –
Let Him, Lord of our lives, the Fledgeling,
Enter our inferiority. (13)
O let my mind float all along now
With ecstasy's engulfing wave,
Arising from the Young One's love play,
That makes the heart both spin and crave,
As a faint smile sends a slow quiver
Across the full moon of His face –
A veritable flood of rapture
In sweet affection's endless seas. (14)
His lotus face, of natural beauty,
Displays His charming innocence,
As He enjoys the lively sound waves
Leaving the flute in His own hands.
He is the vitalizing Bright One
Living in every creature's heart.
May in my heart as its own life force
His rosy lotus feet now sport. (15)
I offer my obeisances
Unto the chitter-chatter sound
Of Lord Sri Krishna's jewelled anklets
And to His footprints all around. (16)
O let my mind always be full of
The sound with which the milkmaids' Lord
Is moving His bejewelled anklets
With many a sweet jingling chord,
Which is respectfully acknowledged
By the melodious cries of the swans,
Floating about all through the forest
In Sri Yamuna’ s lotus ponds. (17)
His rosy eyes, full of compassion,
And large, keep roving everywhere;
When Kamla's full breasts touch His body,
It shows the bristling of His hair;
The minds of silent sages flutter
When flute notes, wavering, depart
From His sweet lips... Ambrosial One, o
Frolic about in my fond heart. (18)
With tender lotus eyes half openi
The primal Person as a Lad
Kisses the sweet and moon-like faces -
Raising their hair, driving them mad –
Of all the married girls of Vraja
Thronging about Him in the woods...
I pray that through His flute’ s vibration
My mind may witness His fond moods. (19)
With bracelets musically jingling
Some yellow cloth is kept in place;
A peacock feather-crest is slipping
As tresses fall before a face;
The Lord's dear form, of fickle nature.
Is fettered by His Consort’ s arms –
May thus my heart behold His glory! -
When He attempts to flee love's charms. (20)
Although held back, a mild smile trickles
Across His features, drop by drop,
While with a full display of love sprouts
His body's hair is standing up:
He cannot help hearing -it's so charming! -
What Vraja's married damsels say...
We honour the pretended sleep of
The Lord who closed His eyes in play. (21)
Enter the woods with their bright foliage,
Or else enter the milkmaids’ breasts!
For one who spurns Vrindavan's dancers
No other worship manifests. (22)
Accompanied by perfect flute notes,
Vibrating with nectarean joy, ,
Anointed Head of all sweet beings -
When indeed shall I see You, Boy? (23)
When will the Child with peacock feather
And with the gentle honey smile
Flowing across His tender moon face
Appear and soothe our eyes a while? (24)
In those repeated sidelong glances,
Showing varieties of grace,
In the effulgence of a childhood
Newly adopting youthful ways,
And in Your miracles of magic
Sustaining the whole universe,
Sri Krishna, as in rays of moonlight,
Do here and now my eyes immerse. (25)
When wilt He cast His sidelong glances
With dark Kalindi-lily eyes
In my direction, trembling slightly,
As waves of mercy gently rise?
And when will His appeasing flute play,
As soothing as once was the moon
On the coiled locks of love’ s opponent,
Gladden my heart? Let it be soon... (26)
Your words so sweet, Your eyes so restless,
Your graceful stride so strong and gay...
O Lord, Your smile -intoxicating...
Your love so deep... (The milkmaids say.) (27)
The glory which is manifesting
In Your broad smile, Your large wide eyes,
Which is embraced by Vraja's damsels
With their full arms and breasts and thighs,
Which endlessly produces showers
Of lovely bright blue flower swirls –
May I behold this beauteous glory,
Which is the joy of the three worlds. (28)
Send me the mercy of Your glances,
That dance to Your flute's melody:
Thus blessed, I need no other rescue;
If not, nothing can rescue me. (29)
I simply place my palms together
To offer You my humble prayer,
My voice being forced out by ceaseless
And growing grief I cannot bear:
“O Supreme Lord, Ocean of mercy,
Let of the generosity
Of Your nectarean sidelong glances
One single drop fall upon me.” (30)
Unsteadiness has overcome us:
We want to see Him as a Child -
With peacock feather in His top-knot,
Well-tied and elegantly styled,
Enticing Vraja's shapely damsels
To fix their lotus eyes on Him
Lifting His round-cheeked face so bright as
To make the lotus moon look dim. (31)
If You would notice that Your childhood
Of wonders is the most sublime,
Then You would understand my longing
As I am doing all the time,
And out of Your kind understanding
You would explain how I may see,
Sometimes, Your lotus face, so lovely,
As You play on Your murali. (32)
Your words are simply overflowing
With nectar, as You twist them round,
While Your large eyes with sweeping flashes
In boyishness superabound:
Thus making speeches to the milkmaids
You let the passion in them rise
At the same time creating havoc
In the composure of the wise. (33)
O when again will the vast ocean
Of mercy tumble down on me
To devastate my meditation
Upon the Light in all that be
By taking on the gracious brilliance
Of a Boy's face shaped like the moon,
Enveloped by the flowing nectar
Of flute notes of a playful tune. (34)
Casting about His restless glances,
So simple and so innocent,
He sends my mind reeling and spinning -
Unparalleled predicament!
How dearly I desire to hold Him
Embraced in my unsteady gaze –
The Boy, who is the life elixir,
Setting my heart and soul ablaze. (35)
By how Your lower lip is trembling,
By Your sweet flute's abundant art,
Indeed, by any such attraction -
Alas! Alas! - You pierce my heart... (36)
Before afflictions come to strike me,
O Lord, and loosen every joint,
May the effulgence of Your moon face
Double the rapture of my mind. (37)
Before the tenth age of man’ s lifetime -
Because of some deficiency –
Approaches, as is bound to happen,
To blot out everything for me,
Let me behold Your full-blown moon face
Enveloped in Your venu's sound,
Presenting to Your charm's perfections
A transcendental pleasure ground. (38)
I lend my ear to the gay jingling
Of anklets of fine jewelry,
Tenderly echoed by the flute notes -
In rising waves that come to me –
Of the great Ocean of compassion,
Whose crests are covered with the light –
Meandering in merry currents -
Of two eyes flashing left and right. (39)
O my sweet Lord, o restless Krishna,
O only Friend of all that be,
O Master, Lover, o Beloved,
O Mercy's one and only Sea,
O You who are of my perception
The sole and singular delight,
O when, o when will You appear as
The lasting shelter of my sight... (40)
Hari, o Friend of the defenceless,
Compassion's one and only Sea,
These wretched days without Your presence –
How shall I pass them, please, tell me! (41)
What to do? To whom shall I speak now?
Things past should not again begin.
Let us discuss a happier subject.
But o, my heart -He lies within!
His smile and shape, sweeter than sweetness.
Intoxicate my mind and eye...
My wretched, wretched thirst for Krishna
Goes on increasing every day! (42)
To keep my vision fixed upon Him,
The Child with lotus eyes a-glow...
Or once to throw my arms around Him...
Wmil Fate ever allow me? O! (43)
With smiles of everlasting freshness
And with Your dawn-red lower lip,
From which in tender exaltation
A flute song flows all the way up,
While Your sweet eyes, a little widened,
Move everywhere in scanning course –
O when indeed shall I catch sight of
That lovely lotus face of Yours? (44)
As soothing as a balm, deep dawn-red,
His lotus eyes are full of joy,
As they glance left and right and wander...
When will He look at me - this Boy? (45)
My eyes are always chasing after
Murari in His boyhood fair,
Adorned with a bright peacock feather
Crowning the thick mass of His hair,
Standing with tender lips a-tremble
And eyes that flicker all the while –
The Lifter of Mandara Mountain -
While smiling His sweet honey smile. (46)
We crave to capture the abundance
Of Sweetness of the purest kind,
Which by the rapture of Its glances
Pleases the world out of its mind,
While languid after the exertion
Of stealing the dark rain cloud’ s shade,
Its lotus face still sports the chaplet
Of a mad peacock’ s feathers made. (47)
While sages push on searching for Him
Along austerity's harsh trace,
The girls of Vraja always gaze at
The wonder of His lotus face.
One cannot find Him in the verses
Of wisdom which the Vedas sing.
When shall I see my God as blue as
A water lily opening... (48)
He looks about in mock confusion,
His playful lotus face a-tilt,
While from the hollow of His venu
A jesting tune is being spilled.
Delighting everybody's vision,
His eyes keep flashing left and right.
O God, o when indeed, Beloved,
You appear before my sight? (49)
The mind, incessantly attentive,
Portrays in perfect rakish style
Mukunda in His tender boyhood
Without a standstill all the while -
Pleasing the connoisseur of mellows –
Under a moon that gently dips
His round-cheeked face in rays of honey,
That glistens on His smiling lips. (50)
For You, my God, my heart is pining -
To witness how Your lotus eyes
In utter beauty are pressed open
By multitudes of warming rays,
And how the sweetness of Your moon face
Becomes delirious with delight
When You defeat the girls of Vraja
In yet another amorous fight. (51)
For You, my God, my heart is pining –
O lake of nectar pure and dense
Of tuneful notes leaving Your venu
When touched by Your light lotus hands...
And o, the sweetness of the jewel,
Four lower lip, that glowing kiss,
From which forever spurts of laughter
Burst forth out of Your innate bliss. (52)
For You, my God, my heart is pining -
For the bright saffron which was pressed
By the full breasts of ardent gopis,
Hit by love's arrows, on Your chest;
And for that all-attractive sweetness,
Ever increasing with a grace
Which was embezzled from the moonlight -
The soft smile on Your lotus face. (53)
With lashes black and thick and shiny
And eyebrows beautifully lined,
With glances amorous and dancing
And speeches gentle and refined,
With rosy lower lip all nectar
And flute notes madly sweet and clear –
O how I crave for that young Vrajan
Whose magic frees the world from fear. (54)
That grace... Those playful sidelong glances...
That boyishness... That lotus face...
That charm... That languid smile so glorious...
E'en gods reveal thereof no trace. (55)
His mind bent on one single purpose -
Destruction of distress and doom
For every creature in whose being
The flower of faith stands in full bloom –
He comes to us with dark cheeks glowing
In a most fresh and lovely way...
We see Him here on every path now -
Murari -as a Child at play. (56)
With peacock feather in His top-knot,
His body like an emerald tree,
A thrilling smile lighting His features,
His Boy's eyes glittering with glee,
Of humble speech but of proud bearing
Like a mad elephant at large –
O who is He who thus so calmly
Comes through Mathura's city arch? (57)
His feet outshine the lotus fountains
And offer certainty to Sri.
His fingers fondly fashion flute notes,
Crowning their art most gracefully.
His arms create a jar of passion,
Laving the fawn-eyed girls with love.
His moon face is beyond description...
O brilliant Boy come from above! (58)
He needs no other decoration
Than a bright peacock's tail-plume tip.
His face is bathed in waves of beauty
From His effulgent lower lip.
His glory baffles the weak-minded
With its variegated ways.
How bright, how bright, indeed how dazzling,
How bright and dazzling is this blaze! (59)
The dazzling glory of His pastimes
Attains its perfect plenitude
Before me and behind and elsewhere,
As truly by my eyes is viewed -
But o! Alas! How can it be then
That I cannot touch Him with my hands?
My craving for this Boy, o mother,
Fills the three worlds to their far ends. (60)
When shall I see His wavy hair mass,
His face and lower lip so sweet,
As He speaks gently with eyes widened,
That wily Boy - o when indeed! (61)
"Protect us, o Abode of mercy!”
Although we just keep crying out,
Friend of wretched, will You hear us
Amid those flute notes sweet and loud? (62)
What great calamity must happen
Before the Sea of Clemency ,
With the mild breeze of early boyhood,
Will fix Its large wide gaze on me? (63)
Your lower lip swelling with sweetness,
Your lazy smile's gracious expanse,
The soothing nectar of Your speeches,
The freshness of Your darting glance,
Your rosy eyes agaze and brilliant,
Your flute notes sounding far and wide,
The saphire blueness of Your body -
O my dear Boy, where do You hide? (64)
Sweeter indeed He is than sweetness,
The love-god's Father as a Child,
More fanciful indeed than fancy...
Save me - my mind is going wild! (65)
With His blue chest expanded smoothly,
His elongated lotus eyes,
His lazy smile sweeter than honey, A
His words exciting and unwise,
His lower Zip round like a berry,
His hauntingly melodious flute –
O when indeed shall I behold Him,
The Treasury of joyous moods... (66)
His eyes are heavy with the burden
Of tenderness filling His gaze.
His lips are sweetened with the nectar
Of smiles enlivening His face.
He can be seen only when masses
Of pious deeds have been performed –
The Primal as a Human Being
With peacock tail-plume crest adorned. (67)
Is it the god of love appearing
Or a corona of sweet light?
Or is it nothing else but sweetness,
The nectar of the inner sight?
Is it the heart of my existence.
Or else the flute’ s essential joy?
Before my eyes I see arising
The form and features of a Boy. (68)
His face changes the face of heaven –
The darting glances of that Boy!
Dressed as a little village Cowherd,
He milks our eyes brimming with joy. (69)
Approaching with His blue arms swinging
While in the lotus of His face
A smile as gentle as the moonlight,
With lively eyes, quivers and plays,
And with His ornaments all tinkling,
Crowned with a peacock feather crest –
Soothing elixir to my vision -
He makes Himself now manifest. (70)
He is the brilliant decoration
Of the whole cowherd boys' brigade –
This Lad, whose bright and lively glances
Are never ever seen to fade,
And while the smiles on His sweet moon face
Appear to widen more and more,
My heart becomes exhilarated
As He intoxicates its core. (71)
What are those most accomplished flute notes
That dance along the forest lanes?
An outpouring they seem of nothing
But love devoid of earthly strains.
He has appeared from the eternals
The Goal for which I always strive,
The Dear One whom the three worlds worship,
The Supreme Godhead come alive! (72)
He is appearing right before me –
As blue as the tamala tree,
His eyes as flickering and wondrous
As the whole twinkling Galaxy...
And o how joyful, o how joyful
Is the full moon of His bright face!
Enveloped in a whirl of flute notes,
I view the Life of all my days. (73)
The furthest Limit of the fickle,
The only Limit Lakshmi knows;
The furthest Limit of creation,
Further than even Brahma goes;
The furthest Limit of all fragrance
And of fantastic feats untold;
The furthest Limit of good fortune,
The Crown of Vraja's luck – behold! (74)
As with the cataract of nectar
Leaving the flute It renders moist
The garden wherein thrives the worship
Of my intoxicated voice,
With moon face so benign and gentle
That it enthuses all things twice,
The Sum of all my pious merits .
Appears before my gazing eyes. (75)
Obeisances to the Bright One,
Protecting men as well as kine,
Who both in Radha's full embraces
And on the Arch-Snake does recline. (76)
I offer my obeisances
Unto the Bright One -He is here! –
The Origin of all, -whose flute song
Betrays His movements to the ear,
The Lover with auspicious kunkum
Rubbed off on His uncovered chest,
In many amorous embraces,
From cowherdesses' well-raised breasts. (77)
Weighted with gently tinkling anklets
A boyish lotus foot beats time
To a refrain of lovely flute notes...
He lives! -engrossed in play sublime... (78)
O here He is! -with the sweet nectar
Of His melodious murali,
Rousing to passionate attention
This pair of ears, anointing me...
He has appeared! - the one Allegiance
Of these two eyes, their only Friend,
Casting about His sidelong glances
In streams of beauty without end. (79)
With swinging elephantine swagger
My God approaches full of grace,
His eyes effulgently reflecting
My [Radhika's] tender sidelong gaze...
As near He comes He bathes my being
In tunes leaving His murali
Filled by His lips with sound that flows from
Between His gem-like teeth towards me. (80)
Here, here He comes, my Lord and Master,
Whose flute songs are accompanied
By dancing feet that are most wondrous,
The shelter of all men in need...
They move about hither and thither
As highest brightest ornament,
In divine play exhilarating
The threefold world to its far end. (81)
No one but He removed the balance
Of the great sages’ evenness.
No one but He removed the garments
Of every bathing cowherdess.
No one but He removed the hubris
Of lower heaven’s upstart lord.
No one but He removed the lotus
Of blooming love within my heart. (82)
O how my eyes delight in seeing
Knowledge and nescience side by side -
This Glory of complete existence,
Which takes me beyond ebb and tide. (83)
Compared to His effulgent moon face
The moonshine ranks no longer first.
My life and soul, this Boy called Krishna,
Doubles the ocean of my thirst. (84)
His rosy eyes bless all the humble...
Again and yet again my mind
Kisses Murari's lotus face with
That lower lip sweet and refined. (85)
His feet surpass the sprouts of wish trees
In tenderness and vernal charm;
His hands instruct the autumn lotus
How to unfold its finest form;
His eyes, brilliant and large, outdazzle
Their counterparts in the three spheres...
Behold this juvenile Enchanter,
Who makes us shed nectarean tears. (86)
Each day He comes a little closer
With graceful gait and diverse art
And the sweet charm of gentle laughter,
Thus conquering the chastest heart.
Revealing His supreme condition,
Dwarfing the love-god and his spells,
The Lord of rapture overpowers
The sloping breasts of Vraja's belles. (87)
Adorned with the last glow of childhood,
He has become a lively Boy,
His eyes inlaid with sparks of passion,
His smile daft with nectarean joy.
With constant fondness and attention
His lips inspire the murali,
Intoxicating the three regions...
To Him, my Life, all victory! (88)
Those wondrous lotus feet are present!
Those wondrous lotus eyes appear!
That wondrous lotus face I see now!
The Wonder, mother -It is here! (89)
The whole world’ s only decoration,
Adorning the full breasts of Sri,
He is among the pearls of Vraja
The emerald shining brilliantly. (90)
Lord Krishna somehow remains steady,
Although the summer heat makes wet
The circles of His cheeks all shiny
With many a drop of running sweat;
And although His beloved Lakshmi -
After They pulled each others' hair -
Is smudged with streaks of the black ointment
Of His beloved Sri, the Fair. (91)
How sweet, how sweet is the Lord's body,
How sweet, how sweet His face, how sweet!
His gentle smile smelling of honey -
How sweet, how sweet, how sweet, how sweet! (92)
I seek refuge in the world's shelter,
In Him who owns nothing but love,
And who, adorned with peacock feather,
In human form came from above. (93)
However much he meditated,
However scholarly or wise,
No Vedic seer ever saw You
Within his heart or with his eyes.
O Master, therefore, in what matter
Would You be merciful to me
And manifest at last Your features
Before my eyes - that I may see? (94)
O Keshava, what is this lustre
That makes Your moon face look so bright?
And what is this sublime appearance
That no description can do right?
Yes, it is this! O yes, this is it!
Just fold my hands for You I can
To offer my obeisances
Again, again, and yet again. (95)
The moon outdazzled by Your moon face,
O God, falls ten times at Your feet
To rise more luminous than ever...
How great Your mercy is - how sweet. (96)
A lotus risen from the water
How can Your face be just like that?
If words already fail to picture
Each lunar change -what can be said?
What other thing of unique beauty
Is there existent anywhere
Throughout the cosmos, my dear Krishna,
That with Your moon face can compare? (97)
Please lend Your ear with kind attention
To something never said before,
Not even by the matchless poets
Who sang their hymns in days of yore:
The moon should undertake the effort,
Obedient to the ancient rite,
To move around before Your moon face
As a true offering of light. (98)
Your soothing smiles are streams of nectar,
Drowning all other kinds of bliss,
Uniting in a sea of rapture -
O let them be victorious! (99)
Admitted - there are many thousands
Of aestheticians of great fame;
And granted -just as many seekers
Have vowed to grasp charm’ s very frame.
We have no wish to quarrel with them
Or flatter You, but to be true,
O Lord, the climax of attraction
Is only realized in You. (100)
The milkmaids, shy with love and longing,
At once became most indiscreet;
Each ditty brimmed with dripping honey,
As passion's urge became too sweet;
Even my voice was full of sweetness
In melodies that opened wide –
When You descended on this planet...
Even base birth was beautified. (101)
Your residence is the whole cosmos,
And fortune's Goddess is Your dove,
The grand creator is Your offspring,
As is the mighty god of love,
And all the universal rulers
Are humbly serving You, o Lord...
However, greater than these wonders
Is Your exalted amorous sport. (102)
Hail to the kind Lord of the cosmos,
Who bears a musk mark on His brow!
In love with Vraja's shapely damsels,
He does whatever they allow. (103)
No other source of life or longing,
Neither of knowledge, nor of love,
No God, no power, and no life-force
Is there but You, Lord from above. (104)
When we are speaking of Your power,
Do sweetness to our words impart!
When we are thinking of our childhood,
Do agitate our doting heart! (105)
Let now the nectar of Your pastimes,
As tasted by some lucky few -
Such as the mischief of Your childhood,
Radhika's lonely love for You,
And rapture flowing in a wave through
Your lotus mouth into the reed –
Let now this nectar flood my being,
O yes indeed! O yes indeed! (106)
If our devotion unto You, Lord,
Has grown too strong to be destroyed,
You will immerse us in good fortune
As transcendental little Boy:
Then Liberation comes to serve us,
Herself, with bud-wise folded hands,
And Duty, Policy, and Pleasure
Will be awaiting our commands. (107)
O Lord, o glory, glory, glory!
All spheres are blessed by Your sweet Name!
O Krishna, glory, glory, glory!
To soothe ear, mind and eye You came! (108)
I bow unto Your unknown glory,
Which manifests in showers of light
Through pious people whose emotions
Are like deluges of delight...
To You, who are brightly adorning
The glorious Village of the Cow,
To You, Love's Ocean that lies brilliant
Beyond all speech and thought - I bow. (109)
May this array of prayerful poems,
Adorning Vishnu's lotus feet,
Extolling the unending glories
Of Damodar sublime and sweet,
Composed for Him by Lilasuka,
This "Krishna's Nectar For The Ear”-
May it continue to be relished
Beyond a hunderd million years. (110)
Perpetually pouring nectar
Into the madly thirsting ears
Of those who multiply its sweetness
Repeating it with blissfull tears,
This poetry in praise of Krishna,
Who saturates the inner eye
Of the submissive and clear-sighted,
Is heard vibrating in the sky. (111)
May every time I crave to see You
The nectar of Your mural
And Your wide eyes brimming with mercy
Reveal Your majesty to me. (112)