At last, my dear, I see how Kāna is uncouth

Rādhā:
At last, my dear, I see how Kāna is uncouth:
An axe of brass, useless for any work,
A layer of tinsel over it!

Albeit I showed him angry eyes, how came it that the mountains
Slipped in two thick roads?
Taking the shālmal for the sandal, he clasped it close,--
But there was a thorny dart!

He who has spent his life amongst the beasts,
What can he know of Rati's ways?
This is a night of nectar, but I spent it vainly
With yonder boorish Herdsman!

Vidyāpati says: Hearken, young woman:
He is not ever a boor!
You are uncouth yourself, your trade is herding too,
You cannot lay such blame on Hari!