E Dhani Ancare Badana Jhampana

e dhani āñcare badana jhāmpāńa lubadhala madhupacakora bidhuntuda ānata ānata cali yāńa

This graceful woman covers her face with the end of her veil, for the bee and the cakora bird have both grown greedy at the sight of that moon; bowing low, bowing low, she walks on.

mukha-maṇḍala kiyeśārada saroruha bhālahi aṣṭamīka canda madhuripu maramabharama yāhā aichana tāre ki gaṇiye mati manda

Is her face-circle an autumn lotus, or is her brow the crescent moon of the eighth night? Even Madhuripu himself is bewildered at heart by such a form — how then could a dull-witted person even judge it?

jani kaha garabe pāṇi-tale bāraba e thala-kamala ujora tahi nakha-cāndabharama bhare aichana tatahiḿ paḍata jani bhora

Do not boast that you could cover this radiant land-born lotus of hers with the palm of your hand — upon it the illusion cast by her moon-like nails is so complete that whoever tries only falls into bewilderment there.

bhāńa dhanuyā kiyesutanu dhunāyasi yachu śare giridhara kāmpa se kiye atanu pataga śire ḍārasi gobinda-dāsa hiye tāpa

O shapely one, what bow are you drawing, with what arrow do you make even Giridhari tremble? Are you hurling upon his head the very shaft of the bodiless archer, Kamadeva? Govinda Dasa's heart burns to see it.