First Sarga: End-of-Night Pastimes

Śrī Śrī Gauḍīya Glory Book Series, number 46

Śrī Śrī Govinda-līlāmṛta

Composed by Śrī Śrī Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja Gosvāmī

Published by Śrī Haridāsa Dāsa, who prays for the mercy of Śrī Śrī Kṛpāsindhu, from Śrī Haribol Kuṭīr in Śrī Navadvīpa.

Year 463 of the Caitanya era. All rights reserved in this edition.

Place of acquisition: Śrī Śrīmat Kṛpāsindhu Dāsa Bābājī Mahārāja, Śrī Bhāgavata-nivāsa, Ramaṇaretī, Śrīdhāma Vṛndāvana.

Printed by Śrī Nimāicaraṇa Viśvāsa at Akṣaya Press, 27/5 Tāraka Chāṭārjī Lane, Calcutta.

Contents

1. End-of-Night Pastimes - First Sarga, page 1.
2. Morning Pastimes - Second Sarga, page 15; Third, page 26; Fourth, page 38.
3. Forenoon Pastimes - Fifth Sarga, page 47; Sixth, page 56; Seventh, page 65.
4. Midday Pastimes - Eighth Sarga, page 79; Ninth, page 90; Tenth, page 105; Eleventh, page 120; Twelfth, page 141; Thirteenth, page 153; Fourteenth, page 165; Fifteenth, page 178; Sixteenth, page 194; Seventeenth, page 211; Eighteenth, page 222.
5. Afternoon Pastimes - Nineteenth Sarga, page 232.
6. Evening Pastimes - Twentieth Sarga, page 244.
7. Early-Night Pastimes - Twenty-first Sarga, page 252.
8. Night Pastimes - Twenty-second Sarga, page 266; Twenty-third, page 277.

May Śrī Gaura and Gadādhara be victorious. All glory to Śrī Rādhā and Govinda.

First Sarga

I bow to Śrī Govinda, the abode of the bliss born from the gathered joys of Vraja, the joy of Vṛndāvana, who rejoices in Śrī Rādhā's company. (1)

I take refuge in that Śrī Kṛṣṇa Caitanya, the compassionate Lord who, while curing the world of its intoxication with ignorance, also made it wonderfully mad by the nectar of the treasure of His own prema. (2)

Prema-filled service to the lotus feet of the beloved of Śrī Rādhā's life is beyond even Brahmā, Śiva, Śeṣa, and the other gods. It is attained only through intense longing by those wholly devoted to the pastimes of Vraja. I now praise His eternal daily course through Vraja in order to reveal the mental service by which that goal may be attained and which travelers on the path of rāga should contemplate. (3)

May that Kṛṣṇa protect us. At night's end He leaves the bower and enters the cowherd settlement; there He milks the cows, eats, and performs His other morning activities. In the forenoon He sports with His friends while grazing the cows. At midday and at night He openly enjoys forest pastimes with Rādhā. In the afternoon He returns to the settlement, and in the early evening He delights His companions. (4)

May this Govinda-līlāmṛta triumph. Though drunk without cease by the ears, speech, and mind, its wonder only increases thirst. Though it cures the disease of worldly existence, it produces the madness, blindness, and bewilderment born of love. Though savored again and again, it grants ever more rasa. Though it steals away awareness of the body and all else, it nourishes the heart, and it removes even the desire for ordinary nectar. (5)

Unskilled, standing far off upon the shore, petty-minded and an unworthy vessel, I nevertheless desire to measure the vast rasa of the ocean of Kṛṣṇa's līlā. How could I fail to become an immense cause of laughter for the Vaiṣṇavas who sport without limit within that ocean? (6)

May the words of a dull and consummate buffoon like me, whether they provoke laughter or give delight, be offered to the Vaiṣṇavas of Vraja, whose minds are immersed in the nectar of the graceful dance of Kṛṣṇa's līlā unfolded by Śrī Rūpa, that accomplished dramatist. (7)

Encouraged by the noble declaration beginning, 'That outpouring of words brings about a revolution in the sins of humanity,' even I, though dull, compose my poor speech with reverence while describing Govinda's pastimes. (8)

May the affectionate saints nourish, beside the lakes of their ears, this exhausted cow of my speech, wearied by wandering through the desert of my mouth and now turned toward Gokula. (9)

I remember Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa at the close of night. Awakened by the many cries that the anxious Vṛndā caused to resound and by the verses of the parrots and śārīs, pleasant yet unwelcome, They rise from Their happy bed. Seen by the sakhīs, They are joyful and charming with freshly awakened love-play, yet apprehensive at the call of the old she-monkey Kakkhaṭī. Still thirsty for one another, They finally reach Their respective beds at home. (10)

Seeing that night had ended, Vṛndā appointed the assembly of birds under her command to awaken Madhusūdana together with Rādhikā. (11)

For that very purpose the foremost birds, although their hearts longed to serve, had at first remained silent. Receiving Vṛndā's order, they joyfully sounded on every side of the play-bower. (12)

The śārī birds sang upon the grapevines, parrots upon the karaka trees, and male cuckoos with their mates in the mango trees. Pigeons sang in the pīlu trees, peacocks in the priyaka trees, bees among the vines, and roosters upon the ground. (13)

Greedy for nectar, the swarm of bees buzzed in the lovely bower of flowering vines, over the heap of lotuses that had served as Their bed, sounding like the auspicious conch of the Lord of Rati. (14)

To awaken Govinda, the honey-intoxicated female bees embraced a resonant humming like the auspicious little cymbals of Rati, overflowing with exuberant joy. (15)

Like the vīṇā of the Mind-born god of love, a row of cuckoos clearly sounded the fifth note, repeatedly pouring out the high call 'kuhū, kuhū.' (16)

Seated beside their mates, who cooed in the intoxication of love, the female cuckoos carried the modulated tone of a lute sweet with passion. Their throats made clear by tasting clusters of tender buds, they fashioned a soft, melodious kākalī in the mango tree. (17)

Driving away the doe-like composure, righteous conduct, and modesty of the gopīs, and intolerant of the wolf-like pride of māna, the tiger-king of desire, I suspect, is roaring under the guise of the pigeons' cooing. (18)

Who other than Kṛṣṇa is able to lift the mountain of Rādhā's composure? What chains other than the greatly blessed daughter of Vṛṣabhānu can subdue the superbly intoxicated elephant Kṛṣṇa? As the peacocks awaken the Divine Couple at dawn, are they not crying 'Who? What?' while showing Them the highest reverence? (19)

The rooster too recited the sound 'ku-kū-kū-kū,' employing short, long, and protracted vowels, just like a young Vedic student rehearsing the Veda at dawn. (20)

Then, although awakened by the birds' commotion, the Divine Couple remained with Their eyes closed in pretense, each appearing unaware that the other had awakened, for They feared the breaking of Their close embrace. (21)

Then at dawn, the eloquent household śārikā, who sat in a gleaming golden cage, was exceedingly dear to the daughter of Vṛṣabhānu, and had witnessed all the night's pastimes, spoke to Them. (22)

Victory to You, O friend of Gokula, O ocean of rasa! Awake and leave the moonlike bed. Awaken Your beloved, lovingly devoted to You, who rests at the root of Your arm and is weary from the fullness of amorous play. (23)

Aruṇa is swiftly rising, naturally pitiless toward assemblies of young women. Therefore, O Lord, go to Your secluded home; hasten away from the bank of the daughter of Mount Kalinda. (24)

Lotus-faced friend, your limbs are deeply languid from the exertions of dalliance, so it is no fault that you sleep at night's end. Yet look, virtuous one: the eastern quarter has appeared reddened, like a friend of Candrā who cannot tolerate your happiness. (25)

The night has gone, dawn has come, and the orb of the sun has reached the horizon. Lotus-eyed friend, now relinquish your fondness for this bed of cool, tender leaves. (26)

Then the parrot named Vicakṣaṇa, whose mind was exceedingly steady, whose speech was bold and excellent, and whose devotion to Kṛṣṇa possessed great depth, recited a series of verses skillful in awakening Mādhava and charming through their radiant, lucid, sweet syllables. (27)

All glory, all glory to the source of Gokula's auspiciousness, the lotus for the bee-like host of Vraja's young women, who at every step increases Nanda's joy! O Śrī Govinda, O infallible Lord, bestower of happiness upon those who bow before You! (28)

O lotus for the bee-like eyes of every inhabitant of the cowherd settlement, eyes parched with longing, morning has arrived! Return to Your distant yet beloved cowherd village, distinguished as the abode of Your many most venerable elders. (29)

Lotus-eyed Kṛṣṇa, look: seeing the sun eager to ascend, the eastern quarter has become intensely red with manifest passion, as though thickly anointed with saffron and dressed in red garments. Abandon sleep here in this secluded bower. (30)

Frightened by the sun, the lady Night has swiftly departed together with the moon. Therefore, accompanied by this fitting beloved, quickly leave the riverbank. (31)

The female cakravāka fixes one eye upon the east, now rosy with Aruṇa's rays, and quickly turns the other toward her distant mate. Overcome with apprehension, the owls in the hollows of the trees fall silent. I suspect the radiant sun has risen. Kṛṣṇa, abandon sleep! (32)

The śārī had learned her art from Vṛndā's own mouth and composed many captivating verses. Intoxicated by the honey of Rādhā's ever-increasing affection, she strove to drive away Her sleep. (33)

Sweet-voiced and subtle-minded, she was named Sūkṣmadhī. The hairs of her body blossomed with love, and, knowing the innate rasa of the moment, she then made her speech dance upon the stage of delight. (34)

O beloved of the son of Vraja's king, go quickly home before people from every direction begin traveling along the roads of Vraja. (35)

Fair-faced one, therefore quickly leave this bed and go home. The lord of the day, swift in his course, is climbing high above the mountain of sunrise. (36)

Give up sleep and leave the bower bed. Friend, go to your dwelling; do not yield to languor. Awaken your beloved, but do not awaken public shame, for the wise uphold conduct suited to the time. (37)

Kṛṣṇa was awake, held in His beloved's embrace, and His beloved too was awake, held in His. Yet although the urgency of dawn deeply troubled Them, the Couple could not rise from the bed. (38)

Her shapely hips confined upon Kṛṣṇa's knees, Her breasts resting on His chest, Her face placed against His, Her arms encircling His neck, and His arm serving as Her pillow, the beloved did not move even slightly, though fully awake. (39)

Though eager to rise from the bed and intent on hastening back to the cowherd settlement, the beloved did not move even one limb in the slightest. His mind had lost all restraint from fear of breaking the delight of His tight embrace with Rādhā's body. (40)

The parrot named Dakṣa, highly expert in arranging Śrī Kṛṣṇa's pastimes, had taken shelter in a corner of the bower. His wings blossomed with the joy born of love for Kṛṣṇa, and he had thoroughly instructed a hundred thousand parrots. He spoke as follows. (41)

'My child sleeps soundly, exhausted by the strain of wandering in the forest. Therefore, maidservants, do not churn the yogurt loudly.' Kṛṣṇa, before Your mother rises and speaks like this throughout the house, quickly and secretly enter Your bedchamber. (42)

Know that Your surabhi cows, Kālindī and the others, stand at dawn with ears motionless and faces raised. They do not call their thirsty calves with lowing cries, for their eyes remain fixed upon Your path and they yearn to behold Your face. They suffer from the painful weight of their full udders. (43)

Before the eager Paurṇamāsī finishes her morning duties and enters Your bedchamber with Your mother to see You, return there quickly. (44)

Then, urged by the parrot's words and anxious to return to the cowherd settlement, Hari quietly rose, withdrawing His limbs from His beloved's body. (45)

Their girlfriends, who had awakened earlier and now placed their faces near the openings in the bower's latticework, watched with Vṛndā the tender movements that arose between the Divine Couple at dawn. (46)

Then the peahen known as Sundarī, stirred by the fullness of Rādhikā's passion, left her own beloved at the priyaka tree and came into the courtyard of the temple of love. (47)

The peacock of Hari named Tāṇḍavika quickly descended from the kadamba tree, spread the mass of his tail feathers into a great circle, and danced before Them, filled with joy. (48)

At once the doe named Raṅgiṇī left her mate beneath the mango tree and, joyful at heart, hurried to the bower's entrance. There she fixed her eyes, restless with love, upon the lotus faces of the Lords of her life. (49)

Hari's stag named Suraṅga, his limbs helpless with languor and the waves of his gaze directed toward Kṛṣṇa's face, left the foot of that mango tree and entered the bower, joining Kṛṣṇa's loving play. (50)

The Lord rose and sat upon the bed. Drawing His exhausted beloved into His lap with both arms as She feigned sleep with closed eyes, He gazed intently upon Her sweetness. (51)

With His eyes, Acyuta drank the face of His beloved, which resembled a lotus at dawn. Her wagtail-like eyes rolled languidly, the bee swarm of Her restless curls played upon Her forehead, and a faint smile graced Her lips. (52)

She raised both arms with all Her fingers interlaced and stretched Her body. As Her yawn opened, the brilliance of Her teeth became clearly visible. Beholding His beloved in this way, Mukunda rejoiced. (53)

At dawn She lay supine in His lap, softly feigning a sob while a slight smile touched Her face. The ends of Her hair were partly loosened, Her flower garland was crushed, and Her necklace was broken. Again and again She opened Her rolling, languid eyes, eager to behold His face. Seeing His beloved exhausted by Their pastimes, the moon of Vraja attained incomparable joy. (54)

Śrī Rādhā's golden-lotus body, languid from the exertion of intense lovemaking, rested in the lap of Her beloved, whose luster was dark and glossy like a tamāla tree. If unquivering lightning could remain upon a fresh raincloud, it might then clearly approach a likeness to Her. (55)

Lotus-eyed Rādhā beheld Hari's face: His makara earrings trembled, a sweet gentle smile arose, His eyes were languid with passion, and His restless curls carried the fragrance of lotuses. His lovely lips were darkened by collyrium and marked by the wounds of Her own teeth. Seeing Him, She again became eager for amorous play. (56)

Their mutual gaze awakened Her modesty; Her trembling eyes withdrew and curved slightly aside. Seeing the faint smile upon His beloved's face, Kṛṣṇa's thirst flared anew. (57)

With His left hand He raised Her head from below, and with the other He lifted Her chin. Bending His neck, He repeatedly kissed His beloved's face, whose cheeks shone with a smile. (58)

Though immersed in the ocean of joy arising from the touch of Her beloved's lips, She shook away His hand and coyly narrowed Her eyes. Her throat choked, She softly murmured, 'No, no,' and spread delight through the eyes of Her friends. (59)

Then Her girlfriends, their faces smiling with delight, laughed as each urged another forward. Apprehensive of the relentless dawn, they entered the bower from every side together with a loudly humming swarm of bees. (60)

Seeing Her smiling friends approach with restless eyes, She rose from Her beloved's two thighs, thereby giving Him twice as much delight. (61)

Rādhā rose hurriedly and covered Her body with a yellow upper cloth seized in agitation. She sat beside Her beloved and looked bashfully at the faces of Her friends. (62)

The friends rejoiced again and again as they beheld their two beloveds before them. The Couple's lips bore the wounds of each other's teeth, Their bodies were languid from dalliance and marked by nails, and the beauty of Their painted leaf designs had faded. Their garments and lovely hair were loosened, and Their necklaces and flower garlands had broken. (63)

The middle of Their bed was thickly smeared with kuṅkuma from Acyuta's body, while both sides were patterned with the red lac from Rādhā's feet. Drops of vermilion, sandal paste, and collyrium variegated it. Thus the bed revealed to the friends the distinctive nature of the Couple's play. (64)

The friends saw the bed as though it were one of their own companions. Its arrangement of flowers was thoroughly crushed, its body was patterned with the colors of betel and collyrium, and it openly displayed the signs of the lovers' dalliance. (65)

Preparing to speak a succession of carefully phrased jokes, the friends drank with their eyes Hari's trembling lips and the beautiful maiden's lotus face, which modesty had lowered before them. (66)

Hari showed them His chest and spoke to them through gestures of His eyes, eager to behold the sweetness of the many shifting emotions upon His beloved's face. (67)

Friends, look! At dawn, fearing separation as She saw Her beloved moon preparing to depart, Rādhā seemed to desire the sight of a hundred moons and therefore drew a hundred crescent marks upon the painted cloth of His chest. (68)

As Kṛṣṇa spoke in this way, She saw Her friends before Her with laughter upon their faces. Her restless eyes contracted, Her spotless cheeks blossomed, and Her eyebrows arched and trembled. She looked obliquely at Her beloved as though striking Him with Her sidelong glances. (69)

Rādhā's gaze brimmed with playful delight and narrowed slightly; it was dense with tears and red at the corners. Restless and startled by modesty and apprehension, it trembled beneath the weight of jealous pique. Yet as She repeatedly smiled upon Her beloved's face, Her pupils blossomed, and Her gaze greatly expanded the joy of His eyes. (70)

Thus the friends drank the sweetness of the dawn pastimes of the Divine Couple, who were immersed in the ocean of mutual loving happiness. Maddened with delight, the friends forgot the conduct appropriate to that moment. (71)

Vṛndā saw the Couple immersed in the ocean of the nectar of Their pastimes and the friends blinded by the madness of love. Alarmed by the coming dawn, she instructed the śārī who understood her every gesture. (72)

The śārikā named Śubhā, who warded off shame before elders, fear of one's husband, and public ridicule, and who was adept at awakening Rādhikā, spoke. (73)

'Your husband will soon return from the cowherd settlement after collecting loads of milk. Rise, rise, Rādhe, and perform the auspicious worship of the household deities here at home.' Lotus-eyed friend, before your mother-in-law rises from bed and begins calling like this, quietly leave the bower and go to your bedchamber. (74)

Friend, the stars, who enjoyed many pastimes throughout the night with the lord of the stars, have now disappeared into the expanse of the sky. Innocent one, you too should leave the bower and go home. (75)

The moon's path has become tawny with the sun's rays, and the royal road is filled with crowds of people. Innocent one, abandon your fascination with the path to the bower. It is now best to take the path back to the cowherd settlement. (76)

Her mother-in-law, whose heart is mired in suspicion, already suspects Her. Her husband, always searching for faults and exceedingly harsh, truly deserves the name Abhimanyu, 'fiercely angry.' Alas, Her foolish sister-in-law also repeatedly reviles Her in anger. Dawn has come, Kṛṣṇa, yet even now You will not release this innocent girl! (77)

The śārī's words fell like Mount Mandara and churned the milk ocean of Her heart. The young fish of Her eyes began to whirl, and, distressed by impending separation, She rose from the bed. (78)

Kṛṣṇa too gazed upon the lovely face of Vṛṣabhānu's daughter, whose eyes moved restlessly with fear. Taking His beloved's fine blue garment from the bed, He rose in haste. (79)

Then, apprehensive and wearing each other's exchanged outer garments, the two left the bower hand in hand. (80)

As Kṛṣṇa emerged from the bower holding Rādhā's hand in His left hand and His flute in His right, He shone like a raincloud embraced by a garland of lightning. (81)

One friend carried a golden water vessel and another a fan with a golden handle. One bore a beautiful mirror, another an ornate container of saffron and sandal paste, another a jewel-studded betel box, and yet another the caged śārikā. In this way several friends, joyful at heart, emerged from the bower-house. (82)

Another friend smiled softly as she left the bower carrying an ivory vermilion casket ornamented with gold and capped with sapphire, shaped like the budding breast of a pregnant woman. (83)

The thread of a necklace had snapped during the embrace, scattering its shining pearls. One friend happily gathered them, tied them securely in the hem of her cloth, and left the bower-house. (84)

Rati Mañjarī quickly picked up from the bed an earring dislodged during the lovers' play. After leaving the bower, she placed it upon the ear of her own mistress. (85)

Rūpa Mañjarī, a dear and intimate friend, picked up the bodice from the edge of the bed and, after leaving the bower, quietly gave it to her friend. (86)

The maidservant Guṇa Mañjarī took up the spittoon and went outside, distributing the remnants of chewed betel to the friends. (87)

Mañjulālī gathered from the bed the garlands and fragrant ointments that had fallen from the Couple's bodies. Distributing them to all the friends, she went outside. (88)

Ahead of them the friends saw the most beloved Kṛṣṇa with His body wrapped in a cloud-colored garment, and their delighted girlfriend with Her body wrapped in yellow cloth. Laughing with hands over their mouths, the friends pointed the two out to one another in every direction with crooked, darting glances and rejoiced. (89)

Seeing the form of their friends' teasing, the Couple fixed Their blossoming eyes upon each other's faces. Immersed in the surging ocean of loving happiness, They stood as motionless as figures in a painting. (90)

Her fine cloth, dark as a dense cloud, merged completely with Her beloved's cloud-hued body, so Rādhā could not distinguish even Her own garment there. Hari likewise did not recognize His ample yellow cloth, for it had merged with His golden beloved's body like water within a golden vessel. (91)

Filled with anger at the obstruction to drinking the nectar of Their pastimes, Lalitā condemned the rising Aruṇa and then spoke to her friend. (92)

Rādhe, look at this Aruṇa! Because he interrupts at dawn the play of noble young brides with their lovers, sinful disease has made both his legs fall away, yet even now he will not leave us. This surely proves the saying that one's own nature is difficult to abandon. (93)

Vṛṣabhānu's gentle, sweet-speaking daughter cast a red glance toward the reddening sky, angry that it had broken Their amorous play. Lalitā's jest brought a smile to Her face, and She spoke. (94)

Although Anūru is without thighs, in half a moment he crosses the sky from the mountain of sunset to the mountain of sunrise. Had fate fashioned him with thighs, not even a report of the night would ever have remained! (95)

Beholding the enchanting splendor of dawn and drinking the wine of Her words, Mukunda became intoxicated with joy and forgot His journey back to the cowherd settlement. He addressed the mistress of His life. (96)

Look: seeing the sun arrive at dawn with his body reddened by union with another direction, the eastern quarter has herself become red with jealousy, like a lover who sees her beloved enjoyed by another woman. (97)

Look, intoxicated one! This moon, lord of the twice-born and destroyer of the darkness of all people, is nonetheless now subdued and has suddenly fallen from the sky after deeply enjoying Vāruṇī, the western quarter. At dawn the day-lotus laughs, delighted by union with her own lord. Ashamed by that laughter, I suspect, the night-lotus hides her face beneath her closing petals. (98)

These cuckoos, black at night like heaps of darkness and nourished by another, the moon, become frightened at dawn when they see the darkness disappear. With their own cry of 'kuhū,' they call for their friend Kuhū, the new-moon night who moves with darkness under the moon's shelter, fearing she has been swallowed. (99)

The forest is filled with the joy born of union with her lover, Spring. Maddened by that happiness, the female pigeon seems to sigh through the pretext of her cooing. (100)

Moon-faced one, look! A restless male bee, tawny from playing among the white water lilies, follows a female bee who spent the night within a lotus bud and now bends away from him in pique. (101)

Thinking that her beloved is approaching, the female cakravāka, twice reddened by Aruṇa's rays, becomes overwhelmed with joy and kisses a red lotus with her beak. (102)

Sweet-voiced one, the swan named Kalasvana has seen Us, and his wings have blossomed with true delight. Though eager to sport with his mate, he leaves her and comes before Us upon the riverbank. (103)

Lotus-faced one, look at the female swan named Tuṇḍikerī, whose sweet voice is softened by passion. Holding in her beak a lotus stalk left by her companion after her lord had tasted it, she follows her lover while keeping her eyes fixed upon the lotus of Your face. (104)

The breeze wanders over the peaks of Malaya and carries the fragrance of lotuses. It is the master who teaches graceful dance to the maiden vines, a player upon the waters, a breaker of fatigue, and the remover of the net of perspiration from noble women sporting with their lovers. (105)

The queen of the forest saw that the two Lords, absorbed in the supremely sweet play of Their words, had forgotten to return to Their homes. Their friends too were lovely with smiles and maddened by delight. Fearful of the advancing day, Vṛndā became anxious. (106)

Then the old she-monkey Kakkhaṭī, perched in a tree, understood Vṛndā's signal and knew what the hour required. She gave voice to a verse. (107)

The ascetic lady Morning Twilight has arrived, dressed in red, worshiped by the virtuous, and wearing as her matted locks the sun's rays that spread upward. Jaṭilā is here! (108)

Hearing the name of exceedingly crooked Jaṭilā, the beautiful Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa became apprehensive and sank into the mire of fear. Though still thirsting intensely for love, the two who are praised throughout Vraja prepared to depart. (109)

The frightened Couple lifted Their slipping silk garments, hair, and garlands and hurried apart along separate forest paths. Seeing Them tremble at the mere name 'Jaṭilā,' the startled friends scattered here and there. (110)

Kṛṣṇa imagined Candrāvalī's attendants to His left, the elders of the cowherd settlement ahead, and crooked Jaṭilā approaching from behind. Eager to see His beloved moving fearfully and quickly to His right, He turned His neck and cast His eyes in every direction as He returned to the settlement. (111)

Suspecting that Jaṭilā was following Her and encumbered by the weight of Her hips and breasts, the Queen journeyed gracefully back to Vraja, now quickening and now slowing Her pace, while holding Her garment and mass of hair in Her hands. (112)

Her restless eyes were clouded by the combined force of fear and love, and Her heart's desire was hidden beneath a concealing veil. Wishing to lead Her home, Rūpa Mañjarī placed Her within her own protective covering and followed Her along the path. (113)

Fear and the host of Her troubled thoughts went before Her like soldiers, firing the arrows of Her darting glances here and there. Rati Mañjarī followed Her, keeping other people away. (114)

Each placed careful, frightened steps within Their respective courtyard while fixing exceedingly restless eyes upon the doors of the elders' rooms. Quietly entering Their own homes, both became free from alarm and lay down upon Their respective beds, Their minds overcome with weariness. (115)

After bringing the full abundance of the pastimes to its timely conclusion and placing Acyuta asleep in His own abode, the virtuous friends, expert in extending the tapestry of līlā, invisibly returned to their respective homes, just as the Vedas return to the Lord at the cosmic dissolution. (116)

Thus ends the First Sarga, entitled 'The Arrangement of the End-of-Night Pastimes in the Bower,' in Govinda-līlāmṛta: a poem that is the fruit of service to Śrī Rūpa, the honeybee at Śrī Caitanya's lotus feet; undertaken at the direction of the accomplished Śrī Raghunātha Dāsa; arisen from the association of Śrī Jīva; and born from the blessing of Śrī Raghunātha Bhaṭṭa. (Colophon to the First Sarga)