Beholding that my love was at her bath

Krishna:
Beholding that my love was at her bath,
She pierced my heart with arrows five,--
The stream of water pouring from her tresses.
Was her moon-face weeping, frighted by their gloom.

The wet cloth clung upon her corse,--
So might Kāma shake a hermit's heart!
Twin breasts were cakravākas sweet.
United by the gods upon the self-same shore,--
Caged in the prison of her arms.
Lest they should fly away in fear.

Vidyāpati, the poet, sings:
The precious maid her lover meets!