In the sky o’er Vrinda’s woods
A violent storm composed
Of thunderous clouds both black and bold
Above Tamala groves



The cowherd boy Sri Krishna
With his cocked and mannered stride
Feign’d a’fright at heaven’s roar
In Nanda did confide



Master think not ill of me
As heaven’s wrath portends
But do consent my journey home,
With Radha to attend



Nanda turned a pensive brow
In thought began to glower
Radha, show this  young man home
But be back within the hour



Unaware, his cunning ruse
The patriarch did concede
To risk his daughter’s maiden state
To Krishna’s ardent need



Hand in hand the two embark’d
To ford the harrowed way
When love conspired to dispose
Young passions led astray



And there beside the river bend
In moonlit soft lacuna
Radha lay in Krishna’s arms
Beside the swift Jamuna

​

Lo, the cowherd found his bliss
Twixt Radharani’s breasts
And bore the wounds of Radha’s bites
Upon his cobalt chest