Your hair dismays the yak, the mountain sinks into the vale

Krishna:
Your hair dismays the yak, the mountain sinks into the vale,
Fearing your face, the moon is fading in the sky,
The antelope is fearful of your eyes, your voice dismays
the koil.
Your gait alarms the olifant, he hides him in the wood:

Why came you not for speech with me, fair may?
All these have fled afar in fear of you,
How then should you in turn fear me?

Dismayed by your breasts, the unblown lily lingers under lake.
The globéd jar leaps into fire.
The honey-apple and the pomegranate abide aloft.
And Shambhu drinks his poison.

Dismayéd by your arms, the golden lily-root leaves not the mud.
Affrighted by your fingers, the flower-stems are shivering!
Vidyāpati asks: How many shall I cite
Of spells of Love like these?