A river of tears is flowing from her eyes

Dūtikā:
A river of tears is flowing from her eyes,
And on its banks she falls and swoons:
O Mādhava, your pity is but too perverse,
You have no fear of murdering a wife.

Then did her breath grow faint,
And some were fanning her with lotus-leaves,
And other clever maids were listening for her breath,
And I have run to tell you.

Some say that Hari is a-coming,
And at that name her wit returns,
The dusky braid begins to dance upon her breast--
A serpent black upon a lily's lap.

Recounting in your heart your former love,
Come back once more to your own home,
Vidyāpati the mighty bard declares:
The wily wight is well aware of all her woe!