Chapter LXIV

_Dūtika:_ O lovely wrathful lady, stony-heart,
In such a plight he is, and yet you say no word!

True love's way is not of such a sort;
It is befitting you should mix with him.

When for his loneliness his life is forfeit,
With whom will you continue anger then?

Who says your heart is soft?
Never was heart so hard as yours!

_If now you do not mix with Mādhava,_
_The poet Vidyāpati will never speak with you again._

LXV.

_Kavi:_ With hanging head, she writes upon the ground,
Whoever utters Shyāma's name, she utterly ignores
Over her glowing robe her hair falls free,
She casts away her jewels and all her fine array.

Her face is like a lord of rosy lilies, void of sap:
The earth is flooded with her streaming tears.
Just then the Lady of the Forest came
And said: 'Fair maid, go we to serve the Sun.'

_But she of the hanging head made no reply._
_Says Vidyāpati: She went away._

LXVI.

_Krishna:_ 'Why veil your face, dear beautiful?
You've stolen my wits away:
You have no dread of slaying men,
Your courage is unbounded!

'O wrathful lady, my heart is frenzied,
No more I may sustain the pangs of Madan,
But come to you for refuge.

'Whether two towering hills, or cups of gold,
I gaze and cannot tell:
And on each breast is Shambhu reverenced,
Framed in his crescent moon.

'I fain would touch them with these lotus hands
If fate be not forbidding:
I seek a sanctuary at your feet--
(O that the damsel may be kind!)'

Seeing her restlessness, I was distraught.
My heart beat fast.
_Hearken, young damsel, says Vidyāpati:_
_Bestow some boon on Kāna._

LXVII.

_Krishna:_ Hearken, hearken, worthy Rādhā,
For what offence do you refuse my company?

How many stars have risen in the sky,
But the moon is another Avatār!

What more in special can I say?
In a host of a myriad Lakshmīs I have eyes for none.

_And hearing this the maiden's heart dissolved in tears,_
_And his desires were realised._

_Vidyāpati says: There was reunion;_
_All were astonished at the tale!_