Her earrings bruise her cheeks while dancing with the motion of her
head,
Her girdle by the tremor of her moving hips is made to tinkle,
She utters senseless sounds, through fever of her love,
He decorates with crimson flowers her curly tresses, curls which are
upon her lively face a mass of clouds,
Flowers with crimson flashings lovely in the forest of her tresses, haunt
of that wild creature love's desire.

And thinking of her own hapless state, Radha contrasts it bitterly with
that of the fortunate girl.

She who with the wearer of the garland lies in dalliance.
With him whose lovely mouth is like a lotus that is opening,
With him whose words are nectar in their sweetness and their tenderness,
With him who wears a garment streaked with gold, all white and
beautiful
Not made to sigh is she, my friend, derided by her girls!

Next morning Radha is standing with her girls when Krishna tries to
approach her. Now, however, he has come too late. Radha has suffered too
greatly. Her patience is at an end and although Krishna implores her to
forgive him, she rounds on him in anger, ordering him to return to the
other girl whom he has just left.[57]

Your mouth, O Krishna, darkened, enhances the crimson beauty of
your lovely body,
Enhances with a, darkness, a blackness that arises from the kissing of
eyes coloured with black unguent.
Go, Krishna, go. Desist from uttering these deceitful words.