O my King, I am drunk with the beauty of Shyama1 min read

O my King, I am drunk with the beauty of Shyama,
It is only she whose lover is absent
Who is for ever writing letter upon letter.
My Lord dwells in mine own heart ;
Who can record the joy ?
O ye good people,
Know that our world is a cheat and a deceiver,
Again and again her pleasures come and go,
But T will choose for my groom the Indestructible—
He whom Time can never devour.
Others drink and drink from the cup till they are drunken,
But I am ever drunk without even drinking.
The cup is the love of Hari,
Wherefrom I am intoxicated day and night.
The lord of Mira is the roguish Giridhara.
Having opened her heart to Hari completely,
She has found Him and is drunk with joy .



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