How shall I tell of my boundless joy, my dear,

Rādhā:
How shall I tell of my boundless joy, my dear,--
Mādhav abiding day after day in my house?
Just so much as the wicked moon annoyed me before,
Even so much was the joy when I saw my darling's face.

Even if I might fold in my wimple the best of treasures,
I would not let go my beloved into a far-away land:
A shawl in the winter is my beloved, a gentle breeze in
the summer,
My dear is a shelter from the storm, and a boat on the river.

Vidyāpati says: Lo, lovely lady,
The grief of the goodly endures not for ever.