Mādhava, O moon-face

Dūtika:
Mādhava, O moon-face,
Never can you have known the sting of separation!
Hearing you are departed to another land, she wastes away:
O wretched Rāi, bereft of wit by force of love!

Refusing even buds of flowers, she lies exhausted on the ground,
The calling of the koil fills her with fear,
Her tears have washed the beauty-spots away,
Her wasted arms let slip their ornaments.

With hanging head Rādhā regards her throat,
Now are her fingers raw with writing on the ground:
Says Vidyāpati: Recollecting all his ways,
And taking count of them, she fainted.