A true rasika fills the tongue, night and day, with the nectar of the Name; making the eyes like chakora birds before the moon of the Beloved’s joy, one drinks the nectar of his beauty without end.
Let body, wealth, life, and honor go when love takes hold—do not delay. Once wounded, what does the wounded lover see? Know that everything has been shattered.
Only one pierced by separation knows its sharp arrow; the unstruck cannot be called brave. Says Jnana Ali: she alone is the Beloved’s fortunate bride who keeps patience within her heart.
Pada 214
What a powerful bridegroom he is, friend!
The charming treasury of beauty has made a jest of stealing every mind. His eyes shine like arrows of Love, striking blow after blow.
Says Madhura Ali: how can one return home when he waylays us in the lanes?
Pada 215
Look, friend, at Rama adorned as bridegroom.
A golden crown, peacock plume, and saffron blaze upon his head; a heavy jeweled garland gleams. Red lac adorns his feet, bracelets his hands, and every ornament is beautifully arranged upon him.
Says Vaijanath: who could describe his gait, his slender waist, and the yellow garment wrapped around him?
Pada 216
Seeing Raghunatha’s beauty, my heart cannot be satisfied, mother. My eyes yearn without blinking; my body falls helpless, mother.
His dark form is steeped in all eight phases of love; nothing else delights me, mother. Says Vaijanath: all sense and understanding have gone—I keep drinking his sweetness, mother.