HARE KRISHNA HARE KRISHNA KRISHNA KRISHNA HARE HARE HARE RAMA HARE RAMA RAMA RAMA HARE HARE 15 страница
He Radhe Shyama! When, mercifully coming to grace my delightful love-bower, along with Your dearmost beloved Shrimati Ananga Manjari, who is the goddess of my very life, will the two of You simultaneously, from both sides, embrace me and kiss my cheeks, knowing me and my everything to be Your very own?
He Radhe Shyama! When will I be invited into the services of Your eternal eightfold daily pastimes within the all-blissful love-groves of Shri Vrindavana? I will ever-attentively in every way selflessly serve to augment Your absolute delight. Sometimes I will sweep Your pastime-cottage with my long curly locks of hair. Sometimes I will massage Your exquisitely beautiful limbs with fragrant oils, bathe You, dress You in splendid garments, and decorate You with incomparably charming flower ornaments made by me and my friends, just to see them become mercilessly mutilated by Your reckless ravaging love play. Sometimes I will gently wave a fan of peacock feathers to remove the drops of perspiration produced from the heat of Your heart’s passion for each other. Sometimes I will blissfully offer You varieties of intoxicating honey wine to initiate the jubilation of a million cupids. You will reciprocate by forcibly inducing me to drink as well, after which I will not be able to clearly articulate what Cupid did or did not do to me to enhance the munificent expansion of Your pleasure pastimes. And sometimes, when You are in the mood, You will ask me, Your unworthy maidservant, to sweetly sing from the core of my heart, while playing the svara-mandalika-vina in ragas appropriate to Your delightful bhavas, which naturally accommodate my own desired mood of ever-loving service. O He Radhe! When, in Your assembly of sakhis, will I get the chance to see, with my own blooming eyes, incomparably lovely Lalita Sundari forcing her way between me and Lord Shyama while endlessly rebuking Him with the most outrageous, audaciously sarcastic criticisms to prevent Him from capriciously ripping at my upper garments? When will I, my glistening honey-sweet lips slightly smiling, relish, with a love-laden sidelong glance the nectar of His ambrosial, crestfallen face at that time?
And when, in Your smiling presence, by Your incomprehensible kindness, will I ever whisper into His ear, “I love You too!” as Your enchanted, whimsical Shyama, knowing me to be Yours, passionately embraces me to His heart?
When will I become so blessed as to be in Your company when Your lover prankishly accosts You along a narrow footpath, demanding amorous favors as an excise for Your invaluable loads of carefully concealed bodily beauty?
|
|
|
When, as clouds rumble in the sky, will I, hiding my blissful smile behind the corner of my veil, apprehensively witness the witty way the unreliable Shyama boatman entreats You to step into His old dilapidated boat on the banks of Manasa-ganga at the foot of Govardhana Hill?
What uncommon price will the uncommon lecherous gardener demand of me as payment for even the least of His uncommon tree-grown pearls? O Radhike! Will that day soon come when I will delightfully embrace the moods of the sakhis, who, with clever insistence, forcibly assert Your rulership over the forest of Vrinda as Your messengers remonstratively demand, at Your behest, a tax on all the produce from Shyama’s newly harvested astonishing garden-crop of pearls?
He Gandharvike! When will I personally witness Shyama’s indescribably sweet masquerade as Your new sakhi, His disguise as a young female snake charmer, His bold intrigue as a distressed demigoddess, His impersonation of Your foolish husband, His emergence as a wild, ferocious beast along the forest path, and His many other guises all donned when circumstantially needed to access Your loving embrace? When will a certain inconsolable maidservant become happy upon seeing You accept the dress and appearance of Subala Sakha to escape Mother Jatila’s vigilance? My heart will ever revel in the ecstasy of these pastimes.
He Vrajadhipe Shri Radhike! The ambrosial pastimes of Your two delicate lotus feet are an ever-enchanting limitless mercy ocean of sweetness! In this world, the perfected antaranga-bhaktas standing at its shore are sprinkled with a few mist-drops of the nectar spray from the crashing waves of that ocean. I, fortunately encountering the seaside-breezes coming through the merciful lotus mouths of my beloved guru and all the eminent Acaryas in disciplic succession, have now become maddened by the mere scent of that ocean’s proximity. Not caring for the opinion of others and firmly disallowing anyone or anything to come between me and my ultimate attainment, I, though blinded by tears of intense simultaneous hope and desperation, nevertheless hasten to get a glimpse of that ocean of premamrita.
|
|
|
He Praneshvari Radhe! When oh when will I, with a purest heart, be privileged to selflessly and most intimately serve Your wonderfully enchanting rasa dance festival in the company of Your beautiful sakhis and most enchanting kinkaris? Sometimes I will play on the vina, sometimes I will flutter on the flute, and sometimes I will delightfully sing on the fifth note while blissfully reciprocating Your beaming smiles. Sometimes I will clap my hands or chime the karatalas in time with the various rhythmic drums that serve to set the pace. Sometimes, when Your unlimitedly charming younger sister will, on Your indication, prankishly pull frantically protesting me by the hands into the circle of twirling gopis to dance by her side, You will make Your ever devoted Shyama dance with each of us in turn! When He catches hold of my hands, spins me around, and embraces me by the neck, maddening me with the intoxicating aroma of His avid cupidity for the nectar lips of Your loyal, unalloyed maidservants, at once my tongue will desire to become hundreds of tongues with which to taste the honeydew sweetness of His kisses! My jubilant nose will desire to become thousands of noses with which to relish the ambrosial fragrance of His arms! My eyes will want to become millions of minnows to swim in the nectar ocean of His unfathomable handsomeness! My ears will wish to become billions of goblets with which to quaff the elixir of His fearlessly forward, flirtatious flattery! My two virtuous, budding raised breasts will shamelessly yearn to become a host of freshly blossomed saffron-pollen-besprinkled, honey-laden golden lotus flowers to enrapture His intoxicated- bumblebee-like heroically roaming eyes! My hands will want to expand by the trillions to check His persistent whimsical pinching! My horripilating thighs will urgently require quadrillions of empathetic reinforcements to sustain my all-but- swooning everything! And my mesmerized mind, intelligence, happy heart, and soul will ever remember, honor, and favorably serve, for Your exclusive satisfaction, the shoreless mercy- ocean of the peerless pastimes of Your tender lotus feet!
|
|
|
Dearest Shrimati Radharani! When, at the end of Your nocturnal love festival, as I serve to satisfy You with extraordinarily delicious, aromatic pan, will You and Your sweet-hearted Shyama whisper about me into each other’s ears, knowing the treasures of Your lotus feet to be the most cherished hope of my heart?
He Radhe! When, having awakened from this dreamlike conditional material existence, the miserable affectation of male egoism long forgotten, will I find myself automatically rising to smilingly muse upon Your Shyamasundara’s distinctive love marks on my person, still bleary-eyed and languid with fatigue from the previous night’s rasa festival? Bewildered by a mixture of lingering loving sentiments, feelings of eternal gratitude, and a stirring awareness of the urgency of my impending morning services, I will happily enter Your kunja wind-palace with a few of my friends to behold the boundless beauty of Your tightly embracing dark and fair sleepy forms.
When will You, hearing our softly arriving tinkling anklets amid the sweet early morning warbling, cooing, and twittering of Vrinda’s waking chorus of many kinds of love-filled birds, my arrival gradually dawning upon Your still drowsy, half-open eyes, sweetly request of me just a few minutes more, anticipating the imminent distress of Your lover’s pangs of separation? Then and there I will worship you with an aratrika of ten million glowing smiles!
As the starry firmament slowly fades into the emergence of a new day, I, stealthily returning unnoticed to my in-laws’ home, will burn with an overwhelming desire to constantly serve You in a myriad of ways throughout the day and night.
In no time, I will quickly come to assist Your morning bathing and dressing and help adorn your delicate limbs with what I know to be Your favorite, exquisitely fashioned, dazzling sapphire-spangled golden ornaments. After massaging Your delightful figure with exceptionally fragrant seasonal oils and helping to blissfully shower You with an abundance of refreshing flower-scented water, I will remove Your thin white bathing garment, carefully pat You dry with a luxuriant, soft silk towel, and, at Shrimati Lalita Devi’s behest, gift You with new lavishly lacey undergarments lovingly made by me. I will then carefully dry and comb your long curly tresses and, in the dressing room, as my friends help to tie Your sari, I will, on the pretext of fastening Your jeweled ankle-bells, placing my head beneath Your skirt where no one can notice me secretly kissing the tips of Your sweet and delicate toes, offer my life’s breath a million times over in the dust of Your lotus feet. With a happy heart, I will loosely place above Your incomparably gorgeous, shapely buttocks, which captivate the unruly eyes of Your beloved Shyamasundara, a sweetly tinkling crystal-belled kinkini belt. As my priya-sakhis, upon my request, place sparkling toe-rings on Your toes, jeweled rings on Your fingers, and many thin, delicately chiming alternating gold and sapphire bracelets on Your wrists, I will adorn Your lovely, pure, plump breasts with heavenly, fragrant kunkuma and dexterously paint upon them varieties of mind-alluring pictures with kasturi musk. I will place around Your beautiful neck delightful pearl necklaces, a gunja-mala, a fine and most meritorious garland of tulasi leaves, and aromatic garlands of bela and campaka flowers, all simply to mesmerize the already enamored heart of beloved Shyama! I will intertwine Your beautiful serpent-like braid with supra-celestial bakula and jasmine strands bearing divine redolence known only to the transcendental forest of Vrindavana, and, with a smirky smile, I will intermittently place, wherever possible, the plumes of a peacock, knowing Your mind to be intently absorbed in happy thoughts of Shyama’s embrace.
|
|
|
He Radhe! Knowing me to be well attuned to the inner ways of Your heart of hearts, You will tenderheartedly beam at me with the sweetest radiance. The sight of this will bring rippling waves of delightful moonbeam smiles to my priya- sakhis’ moon-like faces! When I hold before You a glistening sapphire-framed, highly polished golden mirror, You will see how I so perfectly decorated Your charmingly lovely, rosy- cheeked honey-face with an exquisite honey-pearl nose-ring, dangling dark-blue crystal earrings, and a kama-yantra-tilaka. Noticing Your elegant hair part, marked with crimson mind- alluring sindura pretentiously proclaiming Your faithfulness toward Your so-called husband, You will gently smile, becoming absorbed in the veiled ecstasy of paramour love. With fondness, You will favor how I faultlessly ornamented your crest with an effulgent sapphire-bejeweled candrika along with a nicely placed blue-sapphire mangtika, dangling to border Your curly hairline. You will see how I carefully painted indescribably enchanting gopi-dots around the playful cupid-bow eyebrows adorning Your limitlessly compassionate kajjala-lined eyes and perfectly placed a splendid musk-dot on Your sweet chin. All these will have magnificently embellished the inexhaustible loveliness of Your luxuriant, deep-crimson sari which redoubles Shyama’s insatiable passion to touch You. Thus beholding Your own boundless beauty in the mirror, You will all but swoon with a wish to be at once ravished by the lovelorn, reddish, lotus-petal eyes of Your dark honeybee-like lover whose supreme honey- love goddess is none other than my limitlessly lovable You! Kundavalli will then arrive with a message from Nandagrama. At that time I will solace You by encouraging You to comply with Mother Yashoda’s request that You come quickly to cook for Krishna. Hiding my smile when You openly rebuke me for enthusiastically supporting such a potentially scandalous affair within the earshot of Your superiors, I will offer my eternal dedication to the service of Your lotus feet again and again! He Radhike! When will my most merciful guru-rupa-sakhi, to whom I eternally owe my everything, invite me to accompany You and Your impassioned sakhis to the palatial home of Nanda Maharaja atop lofty Nand…shvara Hill? There, I will help You cook an incredibly sumptuous breakfast love-feast for the pleasure of Shyamasundara and His cowherd boyfriends. When Mother Yashoda greets us and requests the kinkaris to go to the bhoga-mandira to make necessary preparations for Your blissful cooking festival, I will build nicely blazing fires of first-class cedar wood and engage a few of my friends in helping to keep them ablaze. Moving like a fire brand, simultaneously cooking many varieties of tasty dishes, You, being too busy, will instruct me to quickly stir the pot of rich, creamy milk so it doesn’t burn. As I am stirring, stirring, and stirring, the milk will suddenly become thick, thicker, and thickest, upon which You will order me to quickly add the pre-measured ground cardamom and rock-candy powder, take everything off the stove, spread the contents to cool on a marble slab, and roll it all into nectarean, buttery burfi balls. I will all the while marvel as You mercifully include Your loving milkmaid in Your loving services to Your very own beloved Shyama!
He R dhe! After honey-faced Shyamasundara returns with His friends from milking the cows and is nicely bathed and dressed, He will blissfully sit amidst all the boys and eat the fabulously fragrant breakfast feast, praising the amazing variety of tasty delicacies. Everyone will float on the waves of ever- hungry Madhumangala’s unlimitedly humorous wit punctuated by the unabashed, intoxicating hasya-rasa of all the jovial cowherd boys. All the while, Shyama will search out the glowing golden treasure of Your fairest features through the kitchen window to offer You the nectar of His evocative sidelong glances. At that time I will do everything within my power to mitigate Your acute loving afflictions redoubled by the unfeasibility of intimately meeting with Him in the presence of His mothers and friends, let alone through the kitchen window.
Afterwards, I will relish a little of the ambrosial remnants of His adharamrita-prasada personally given to me by Your own munificent hand. Being especially kind upon me, You will take me with You to the prearranged morning rendezvous with Your beloved Shyama within a cave on Nandishvara Hill. When, as I fan the two of You in the wake of Your luscious love play, will I shyly lower my smiling face upon hearing Him curiously ask You, “Who made those nectarean, buttery burfi balls?” To show special causeless mercy upon Your unworthy, insignificant milkmaid, You will silently tell about me to Your Krishna with the indications of Your cupid’s bow eyebrows as Your smiling eyes mercifully dance in my direction.
In the late morning, Shyama will leave His father’s house for cow-herding, along with all of His happy, playful gopa- balakas. He, in various ways, will politely persuade His anxious parents to desist from following Him to the forest, just to give His bosom buddies the opportunity to freely frolic with Him to their hearts’ content. When will I, greatly anticipating the distresses of Your heart, witness with my own eyes the torment of the whole of Vraja as they tearfully return to their respective homes? I will weep to see You collapse into the arms of Your sakhis as they mercilessly carry You back to the gloom of Mother Jatila’s jailhouse. I will again and again hear You anxiously beg to be born as a bird so that You may freely fly from the confines of household imprisonment to the company of Your beloved Shyama. Again and again I will hear Your desperate plea to be reborn as a bamboo to get the opportunity to drink the nectar of His honey-moonbeam smiling kissy-lips by becoming His hand-held playful flute. Again and again You will praise the fortune of His shark-shaped earrings that unabashedly kiss His soft, sweetly shining cheeks. Repeatedly engulfed by intense feelings of separation, You will sardonically eulogize Giri Govardhana as hari-dasa-varya, knowing full well the incomparably superlative satisfaction Shyama feels by placing His delicate lotus feet upon the supremely rapturous mountain slopes of Your firm, amatively swollen breasts. Again and again You will beg to become like the river Yamuna, that You might swiftly flow unchecked to the ocean of Shyama’s unfathomable sweetness. You will fervently pray to become a breeze, rushing unhindered to whisk away the fragrance of His person. As You place Your newly made garland of forest flowers in the hands of the expert maidservant Tulasi to take to Your beloved, You will flood with a passion to become that very garland placed upon His broad, handsome sapphire chest. Plaintively pining but hardly solaced by the succor of Your sakhis, You will again and again languish by longing to become a madhavi creeper whose tender tendrils curl to enclasp the torso of a certain youthful Shyama tamala tree within a forest bower.
When will we, with renewed enthusiasm and happy hearts, escape the looming prison walls of insufferable separation? On the pretext of accompanying You and Your sakhis to pick flowers for worship of the Sun-god, I will take You to a sanketa- kunja by the side of Your limitlessly lovely lake. Anxiously anticipating the nectar flood of Your fabulously festive midday pastimes, I will lovingly reflect upon Your amorous delusions as I witness You flirtatiously feigning indifference toward a tamala tree as we hasten along the forest path!
In the suspense of Your lover’s imminent arrival, You will see Him everywhere, in all directions. Again and again, listlessly rising up from Your exquisitely ornamented flowerbed within the jewel-bedecked bower-house, You will impatiently gaze from the doorway down the forest path, and again and again You will return to sink in the ever-rising tide of Your desperation to see Him. When will I bathe Your two exquisitely beautiful lotus feet with an incessant flood of tears as You, experiencing a moment as if a millennium, anxiously apprehend the failure of Your now-much-overdue beloved Shyama’s arrival at our prearranged tryst? Repeatedly imploring You to patiently remain just a few moments longer, I will suddenly notice His rakishly smiling eyes winking at me through the window lattice of the kunja cottage.
“Not so fast, buster! She’s our property! Don’t touch! We just took so much time and trouble to exquisitely dress and ornament Her and You want to ravage everything in a moment! Do You think You can so freely have our svamini just because You desire Her? I know You! If You want to realize Your wanton wishes, You’ll have to pay the price: unswerving loyalty to the service of the dust of Her limitlessly luscious lotus feet! Otherwise, go! Go to Shaibya’s friend Candravali! She’s easy! Her maidservants will eagerly make all the arrangements!” He Radhe! Boldly asserting the truth of our preeminent proprietary status, I will pull You behind smiling Lalita, who will stand as a formidable fortress to ensure the intensification of Your pleasure pastimes.
Дата добавления: 2019-11-25; просмотров: 147; Мы поможем в написании вашей работы! |
Мы поможем в написании ваших работ!