You that are skilled in passion's lore have pity

Rādhā:
You that are skilled in passion's lore have pity
on my shame,--
I will forsake it when my youth increases:
My little savour cannot satisfy you now,
The little draught will not suffice to slake your thirst.

Would you but take it drop by drop,
Daily increasing like the digit of the moon!
These little breasts of mine will hardly fill your hands
as yet,--
O Hari, do not wound them with your nails, be wise in love.

Vidyāpati exclaims: What are these gestes,
To set such store upon a green pomegranate?