Akroora at Ambadi

The crimson patches of the evening sky
Are mirrored bright upon the Kalindi
And lo! her bosom seems to be aglow
With long levels of crimson lotuses!
Is this, thy sheen, O River resplendent
By Lord Sree Krishna's feet incarnadined?
Is it the vermilion upon the breasts
Of nymphs to tint His dear delightful form?
The rhythmic dance of the softly blowing breeze
Upon thy wavelets breaking line on line
Doth breathe the balm of empyreal bliss
And shake my frame with glowing ecstasy.
The ripple of thy water's steady flow
That fills mine ears with such mellifluence
Doth seem to me the modulations sweet
And sacred of His venu’s melody.
O Brindavan! beaming, beauteous, bright,
Bordered blue by the brimming Kalindi
And where my Darling Little One doth trip
With feet licked by the kine to glossiness,
I wish I were born in a nook in thee
As a tender blade of gross! Ah woodland!
Thou art a paradise pure on this Earth
A world of cows where peace and plenty dwell,
A world un-excelled in felicity;
And Ye! mandar, malli, and malati
Who ope softly with white-eyed wonder sweet,
Is not your glory whitened by the waves
Of my Lord's genial and lingering smile?
The lowing of the kine that penwards wend
Swells softly, softly from Ambadi nigh,
And in the billows bursting from the sound
My sins are washed, a hallow'd being I turn.
The setting Sun ruddies the straw-thatched roofs
Of Gokul’s houses rising row by row;
He leaves his crimson glory unto Him
The Almighty who dwells in Ambadi.
The jingling of bells round the necks of calves
When to and fro they run in sportive mirth
Rings unto heaven's vault and seems to chime
Like as a clock the dying hour of day.
Let mansions big and decked with domes of gold
And rising town and tower innumer'ble
Bow low unto the tiny thatched-homesteads
Of Gokul, for abideth not here He
The Lord of the Goddess of Opulence?
As fair as she that rose resplendently
From out the milky deep the gopis are,
And when they milk the cows licking their calves
With hands wont to fondle the Darling Child
Their bracelets tune forth merry melodies
Which swell and float and fill this blissful world.
And when the milk foams up the milking pails
Its tiny bubbles like to eyes do wink
And seem to ask: "Where is that little thief
Of milk and butter? O where is He?"
O Akroora, thou thirsty chatak bird!
Get down, get down from out thy chariot
And look! for there standeth thy dark-blue cloud
Yonder, watching the milking of the kine.
He is a dark and divine baby born
Out of the long, long penance of the pair
Of Vasudev and Devaki, the good;
He is a heav'nly light kindled by God
In Nanda's home. He's a sapphire that burns
Upon the breast of blessed Yasoda,
He is a darling bird that wings gaily
From vine to vine and shining greenery ;
He is a radiant black majestic swan
Sporting on the sands by the Kalindi,
He is a chum delightful of the boys,
He is the soul-force of the Vedantins.
He holds the cowherd's flute and staff–the twain
In his left hand, whilst with the tender right
Thai bears the sceptre swaying triple worlds
He caresses the sheeny skin of calves;
And as around a vine bright coronals
Of jasmines bloom, children encircle Him,
And them with words sweetened by honied smiles
He doth delight and ringing laugh provoke.
His cloud-dark hair bedeck'd with peacock plumes
Is trailing down, for undone is its knot,
And in His forehead fringed by gleaming pearls
Faded is the fair tilak by beads of sweat;
The saffron silk adown His shoulder hangs
In sweet disorder; it is stained in mire;
His frame flecked with woodland particles
Doth seem an uncut gem and unchiselled;
Unappeas'd is His desire for wandering,
And when His mother with a vase of gold
Filled with oil calls Him aloud for bath
He feigns He has not heard that darling call;
But when the neighbouring maids do beckon Him
And say, "Want you white butter, dear?," He trips
Towards them blithefully and His anklets
Tinkle, tinkle with a mellow melody.
And Akroora did see the Divine form,
The Root of Wisdom, Lord of all the worlds,
And lo! in him a chastening influence
Some unseen goodly force infused and he
Felt him a transformed man, a new being!
Dived right adown the nectar's depths by depths
Forgot he all the outward elements,
And jumping from out the chariot he rushed
Towards the Lord and by His lotus-feet
He rolled and rolled–a bhakti-maddened man.