Hare Krsna came into my ear,
And out flew the purple night.
With waves of beauty and the sound of His flute,
He moved within my heart.
His Name on my tongue,
There was no way to ever forget Him,
The only Love of the Maids of Vraja,
The Holder of Govardhana.
When the stillness came and Brahma's night,
His flute sang out, and the gopis ran to Him.
Their husbands could not hold their madness
To chase the sound of the flute.
The water churned white into gurgling milk,
Churned by the codes of the flute,
And the gopis ran to Him,
Seeking His only glance.
As Radha danced, the sound of the flute
Licked Her ears and made Her mad
The dancing gopis side by side
With the Pride of Vrndavana,
A necklace strung upon hopeful looks at
The wandering Yasodanandana.
He holds the gopis' hearts,
He casts His tender looks
(His dancing eyebrows in the night).
When He touches them
The gopis tremble, stunned.
The flowers fall from their loosened hair
And leave a train of promises
In the dancing dust.
Their hands marked with kumkuma touch,
The moonlight in their faces,
Their eyes roll and yearn.
He casts His glance and moves away,
And where He stood there remains