Shri Thakur, a poet of Braj.
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To whom can I express this deep agony of love within my heart? For even if I were to speak of it to someone, no one would believe it. Everyone merely wishes to offer superficial consolation, but no one can truly recognize this affliction of love that dwells deep within.
A sakhī, teasing and lovingly persuading Śrī Rādhā, says: “O sakhī! You know very well that the limbs of Gopāla, Śrī Kṛṣṇa, are as tender as lotus petals. I bow to You in affection — do You not realize that even the slightest trace of Your displeasure causes Śrī Kṛṣṇa to wither away in sorrow?”
One sakhi (friend) says to another — Now what will you explain, and who will understand you? You have already sown the seeds of infamy. What’s the use of overthinking now? Since you yourself have fallen into the snare of love, whom can you blame?
With the tenderness of the lotus, the fragrance of the rose, and the cool radiance of the moon, O Śrī Rādhā, Your unparalleled form has emerged.
Ever since I beheld Śrī Kṛṣṇa’s enchanting form, that form has become etched in my eyes forever.
In this sawaiyā, the devotee Ṭhākur expresses his exclusive loyalty and devotion toward Śrī Bāṅke Bihārī. He says that my ears have refused to hear any other name, and my heart is now dyed only in the hue of Bāṅke Bihārī.
O Śrī Kṛṣṇa! If You do not come to me every day, then please hear this plea.
Oh Śrī Rādhā, You are more delicate than a lotus flower and more fragrant than a rose. You are more brilliant than the moon, like the sunrise.
