Gather everything into one place, and let me taste it all. What I have with me, I will also put in among yours. The cowherd boys say, wonderful, wonderful, and they blow their horns and flutes in delight. The bundles tied to sticks are all opened up and merged into one heap. Krishna makes the feast and distributes the shares to his friends. One after another, each stretches out his hand and opens his mouth. The round morsel of food, the flute's note, each brings a joy that seems to grow ever greater. They say, how delicious this has become, give us more, our bellies are not yet full. He brings a morsel toward his own mouth, and others gape with longing. He eats it himself and teases them with playful gestures. They seize him in an embrace, and he runs; they chase him, catch him, and pull the food from his very lips and eat it. They say, what a trickster you are, Krishna. He stuffs a bite into someone's mouth and fills another's cheeks, then the clever one runs and they all chase after him. He eats from everyone's share, and they cry, O Krishna, my dear mother. The gods above sigh with longing, saying, alas, we are denied this joy. One slaps another on the back, the rump, the face. The commotion is too much for Hari; he says, enough now. He comes pleading, for even the Lord cannot bear so much roughhousing; he says, let us now play properly and tells them the rules. In circles of joy they place Hari in the center. Some blow horns, some low like calves, some stamp and clap. The crooked, the lisping, the stumpy, the lame, the stumbling ones, all are beloved to Krishna, for they are the most devoted. He delights in seeing their faces and feels such happiness that he laughs out loud. Each eats from the other's leftovers without any disgust; even the shy ones He has made bold through His own company. Whoever is still hungry, He opens their mouth and feeds them. Hari gives equal joy to everyone. They say, well done, well done, Hari. Your company is truly the best. Even if you try to lead us astray now, we will not go with anyone else. The cows forget their grazing, the birds and beasts grow still. The waters of the Yamuna stop flowing and stand motionless. All the gods watch from above, swallowing their saliva, saying, blessed are these cowherd boys; shame upon us. They say, what shall we do? Let us become fish in the Yamuna to receive the remnants. The heavenly hosts crowd the banks of the Yamuna, and all the while, Krishna smacks his lips all the more. In bliss, the Lord of the Gopis plays on. They say, let no one wash their hands in the Yamuna. They say, He knows the heart's secret; shame has no place here. The remnants of Krishna are a gain of the highest honor. Blessed is this day and hour; the cowherd boy has graced us. They say, we are satisfied, fulfilled by your own hand. The friends are delighted in one another's love. Today we have eaten our fill of curd and rice in abundance. Your company is the best; grant it to us every day. Let us live this way forever, O God. Then the wearer of the forest garland says, pick up your sticks and blankets. Now let us go merrily together to graze the cows. Says Tuka, they were so full of love that none could bear to walk. The cows and the cowherd boys were made equal to God Himself. Today there is pure bliss. Today there is pure bliss. The supreme joy walks along with us.