The morning sky, still pink with dawn,
Illuminates the woods today
Upon the hill called Govardhana,
Where Gopala Krsna comes to play.
His body, colored blackish blue,
Is wrapped around by yellow silk,
And with His friends, He's calling to
The cows who yield ambrosial milk.
His long black hair cascades in curls
From underneath a golden crown
And intertwines with strings of pearls
And flower garlands swinging down.
A peacock plume bedecks His crown,
A golden flute rests in His palm,
And tulasi at His feet is sown
In His abode Vrndavana Dhama.
The village damsels love this Boy;
With happy songs they bring Him food.
And, seeing His pleasure, they enjoy
The ecstasy of serving mood.