English
Who has come to Mathura’, flooding the land of Vrndavan with tears? The attachment, love and aversion, all pertaining to You, has enveloped everything. No one puts on garland of guinja’, a red and black seed, over the neck of the King of cowherds, morning, evening. By not finding the stealer of butter, the gopiis, cowmaids, devotees, do not cry with shyness of joy. The parrots forgot the song, and in the river Yamuna’, there is no flood of love. The sky of Vraja has become dull by losing One single Gopa’l.
