Mādhava and the babe new-led in love,

Dūtika:
Mādhava and the babe new-led in love,--
You have forgotten her, forsaken to her fate,
She is become a garland offering.

She who so loves, I see her frame is fretted,
She stares upon your path
With fixed regard, she hears no word,
Her tears are falling fast.

Her country is forsaken of your flute,
Her body is wasted all away
Most like the narrow streak of gold
The goldsmith draws upon the touchstone.

Her hair is disarrayed, she no more tresses it--
So little might the fair thing has:
Wasted and worn and woeful I have seen her
Midst her gay companions.

Like chaff she flies and falls,
She needs her friend's embraces:
Cure of her sickness lies in other hands,
How may she live?

On solemn oath Vidyāpati reveals
A yet more ferly thing:
Pondering ever on your ways
Is the root of her undoing.