Mine is Gopal

Mine Is Gopal

Mine is Gopal, the Mountain-Holder; there is no one else.

On his head he wears the peacock-crown: He alone is my husband.

Father, mother, brother, relative: I have none to call my own.

I've forsaken both God, and the family's honor: what should I do?

I've sat near the holy ones, and I've lost shame before the people.

I've torn my scarf into shreds; I'm all wrapped up in a blanket.

I took off my finery of pearls and coral, and strung a garland of wildwood flowers.

With my tears, I watered the creeper of love that I planted;

Now the creeper has grown spread all over, and borne the fruit of bliss.

The churner of the milk churned with great love.

When I took out the butter, no need to drink any buttermilk.

I came for the sake of love-devotion; seeing the world, I wept.

Mira is the maidservant of the Mountain-Holder:

Now with love He takes me across to the further shore.