How shall I tell of Kānu's beauty, my dear?

Rādhā:
How shall I tell of Kānu's beauty, my dear?
Who shall describe that dream-shape?
His lovely form is a fresh cloud,
His yellow garment the lightning's flash.

So black, so black his waving hair!
The peacock-plume so near the moon's orb!
For fragrance of the screw-pine and the jasmine,
Madan casts away his flower-arrows in dismay.

Vidyāpati asks: What more shall I say?
Nature has emptied Madan's treasury!