Do not urge me, dearest maiden, do not urge.

Rādhā:
Do not urge me, dearest maiden, do not urge.
What can I do, if he should soothe my fears?
Few are my years, for I am not so old as Kānu,--
I am too shamefast and too tender.

Cruel Hari played with me impatiently,
How can I tell how many woes the night bestowed?
Passion flamed up, I lost my wits,--
Who knows when he broke my girdle?

He held me close, with pinioned arms,
And then my heart was beating wildly;
I let him see my streaming eyes,
But even then Kānu had no pity.

My wicked lover parched my lips--
Abetted by the night, Rahu devoured the moon;
He tore my twin breasts with his nails,
Just as a lion tears an elephant.

Ah amorous woman, says Vidyāpati,--
You knew full well Murāri was aflame!