I have spent a fair morn,
looking amongst winding hills,
The noon I frittered away in,
labyrinthine woods, numerous vales;
And even as night beckons
I search orchards fragrant with fruit.
The sight of my Lover, nowhere do I behold!
But the music of His flute
is still alive in my ears;
His peacock crown doth tickle my face.
The flautist of the Splendid-Wood,
has captured my heart,
Like the bee trapped in the lotus,
I find no means of escape;
Imprisoned in shackles of love
for the Giver-Of-Joy,
My heart knows no bounds, O Sakhi!
The wait for the Beloved is delicious,
like the wait of a river to join the sea.