How can I tell the limits of my grief, my dear?

Rādhā:
How can I tell the limits of my grief, my dear?
The blowing of that flute diffuses poison through my frame:
Insistently I hear it sounding,
And then my heart and body melt in shame.

In that supreme instant, my body fills to overflowing,
I dare not lift my eyes lest anyone should know of it:
In the company of elders, waves of emotion sweeping through me,
I draw my dress across each limb to hide it carefully.

With softest steps I walk about the house--
Kind fate has so far hidden my secret shame--
But rapture fills my heart and body, my girdle slips!
Vidyāpati is dazed! What can he say?