Those days of Vraja have been lost.
Vraja’s Gopála has abandoned his home.
The sweetness of Vraja has been diffused
through the entire world, flowing with light.
Flowing with light. It is indeed flowing with light.

At eventide, the wives of Vraja light the lamp no more.
In Vraja, in the rains, niipa flowers blossom no more.
Not wearing the mark of vermillion,
the young women of Vraja, of good descent,
weep, lost for words.
They are lost for words, indeed lost for words.

The boys of Vraja play no more.
No more do cows let grass touch their lips.
Sorrowful does no more wear on their eyes
the bewitching kohl filled with nectar.

The gopiis no more churn buttermilk.
They constantly search for the butter-thief.
They don’t wear girdles around their hips
but beat their heads with their hands [in lament].

VRAJER SE DIN HÁRÁIYÁ GECHE
VRAJER GOPÁL GHARA CHÁŔÁ,
VRAJER MÁDHURII CHAŔÁYE’ PAŔECHE
SÁRÁ SAḾSÁRE ÁLO-JHARÁ,
ÁLO-JHARÁ SE JE ÁLO-JHARÁ.

VRAJER VADHU NÁ JVÁLE SÁṊJHE DIIP
VRAJE VARŚÁY NÁHI PHOT́E NIIP
VRAJA-KULABÁLÁ SIṊDURA T́IP,
NÁ PARIYÁ KÁṊDE VÁŃIIHÁRÁ
VÁŃIIHÁRÁ SE JE VÁŃIIHÁRÁ.

VRAJABÁLAKERÁ KHELÁ NÁHI KARE
VRAJER DHENU NÁ TRŃA MUKHE DHARE,
TRASTÁ HARIŃII COKHE NÁHI PARE
MÁYÁKAJJAL SUDHÁBHARÁ.

DADHI MANTHAN GOPII NÁHI KARE
SATATA KHOṊJE JE MÁKHANACORE,
KAT́IDESHE GOT́ NÁHI PARE ÁJI
SHIRE KARE KARÁGHÁT TÁRÁ.

14-08-1983