Shri Purushottam Ji, a rasik poet of Braj
12 Articles Found
If you do not achieve your ultimate well-being in this human life, then it will never be possible again, because this human body is not obtained repeatedly, nor will a mother give birth to it again and again; if you miss this opportunity, you will fall once more into the cycle of eighty-four lakh species of life, and you will have to continuously struggle under the punishment of Yamarāja.
The youthful princess Śrī Rādhā, whose beautiful eyes resemble those of a doe, is exquisitely adorned beside Her ever-youthful lover, Śrī Kṛṣṇa. The dark collyrium beautifying Her large eyes and Her enchanting, side-long glance have forever enshrined themselves in my heart.
Nandalāla, Śrī Kṛṣṇa, Himself adorns His beloved Śrī Rādhā. Repeatedly, with His own hands, He knots garlands of pearls and gently arranges Her earrings and flowing locks.
O Śrī Kṛṣṇa, crowned with a peacock feather, kindly bless me with Your divine darśana. The elegant scarf tied around Your waist looks supremely charming, while Your yellow garments sway gently in the breeze, spreading a captivating beauty. [1]
When Śrī Rādhikā steps out upon the high terrace and bestows Her darśan, gently moving aside Her dark locks to unveil Her face, it seems like the full moon rising from behind a veil of clouds.
O Śrī Krishna! The honor and protection of Braj rest in Your hands. Even the moon and the sun meditate upon You, and the countless stars gaze endlessly at Your divine form.
Rasika Bihari, Lord Shri Krishna, performs the divine Rasa dance in the sacred groves of Bansivat, on the banks of the Yamuna in Vrindavan.
Both beloveds, Sri Radha Krishna, swing together on the branches of the Kadamba trees. Thunder roars, lightning flashes in the sky, and all around, the young gopis gather in joy.
If you truly desire the nectar of divine love, then remain steadfast at Her doorway. If you are indeed a true rasika (one who relishes divine love), then endure all hardships and afflictions with patience, for the reward (of rasa) is unparalleled.
A gopi says - Come forward, O dark Shyamsundar! Let me rub colors on you and apply color to your forehead and cheeks.
O playful Shri Krishna, please show me the land of Braj Mandal. In your Braj, there are many peacocks, whose cooing fills the heart with joy.
In Vrindavan, Holi is celebrated with such intensity that the delicate necklaces of fair women break, and their saris are torn as they dance and play.
