Gita Govinda 2.12

When the throng of her confidantes had departed, seeing his beloved Rādhā / whose lower lip was bathed in a blossoming smile born of the overwhelming purpose of love surrendered to Smara with immense modesty, / her mind filled with passion, casting her eyes repeatedly upon the bed of fresh sprouts and flowers, Hari spoke to her:

"Place your lotus feet upon the bed of young sprouts, passionate woman; / let this lovely couch suffer defeat by the rivals of your sprout-like feet! / Radhika, yield for a moment now to Nārāyaṇa who is devoted to you!"

"With my lotus hand I will caress your foot; you have traveled far. / Grant a favor to me for a moment upon the bed, like an anklet bravely following you! / Radhika, yield for a moment now to Nārāyaṇa who is devoted to you!"

"Speak gracious words like nectar dripping from the treasure of the moon of your face! / Let me remove the fine silk on your chest that confines your breasts, as if dispelling separation itself! / Radhika, yield for a moment now to Nārāyaṇa who is devoted to you!"

"Place upon my chest your jar-like breasts, thrilling with goosebumps as if stirred by the haste of a lover's embrace, / so hard to attain; quench the burning of mind-born love! / Radhika, yield for a moment now to Nārāyaṇa who is devoted to you!"

"Offer the nectar of your lower lip, passionate woman; bring life to your servant who is as if dead, / his mind fixed on you, his body burned by the fire of separation, bereft of dalliance! / Radhika, yield for a moment now to Nārāyaṇa who is devoted to you!"

"Moon-faced one, make your jeweled girdle jingle, matching the sweet sounds from your throat! / In my ears, tormented by the cuckoo's cry, put an end at last to sorrow! / Radhika, yield for a moment now to Nārāyaṇa who is devoted to you!"

"Seeing me now distraught with utterly vain anger, / your eyes close as if in modesty; cease, dismiss the weariness of love! / Radhika, yield for a moment now to Nārāyaṇa who is devoted to you!"

"May this song uttered by Jayadeva, which proclaims at every step the delight of the enemy of Madhu, / awaken among connoisseurs the charming delight born of the true nature of love! / Radhika, yield for a moment now to Nārāyaṇa who is devoted to you!"

On the battlefield of love, at the onset of the tumult of erotic play, rashly, in her flurry / she mounted above to conquer her beloved; / but her hips grew motionless, the creepers of her arms slackened, her chest trembled, / her eyes closed: how can women succeed in the masculine role?

Then, though her lover was exhausted from amorous pleasure, Rādhā, unhindered, having her lover under her sway, / wishing to be adorned, / spoke to him:

"O son of Yadu, paint with your hand, cooler than sandalwood, upon my breast, / a decorative leaf pattern of musk, here on this brother to the auspicious jars of the Mind-born!" / She spoke while the son of Yadu made sport, delighting her heart.

"Brighten with collyrium, which puts to shame a swarm of black bees, my eyes that loose the arrows of the lord of love, / my beloved, for the lampblack has run down from your kisses on my lips!" / She spoke while the son of Yadu made sport, delighting her heart.

"Upon my ears, which dispel the rippling darting of the deer of my eyes / and bear the sport of the noose of mind-born love, place my earrings, you of fair adornment!" / She spoke while the son of Yadu made sport, delighting her heart.

"Arrange the curls upon my face, which surpass the spotless lotus and inspire playful delight, / forming a lovely swarm of bees right before my eyes for a long time!" / She spoke while the son of Yadu made sport, delighting her heart.

"Draw a lovely forehead mark with musk upon the moon of my brow, / like the mark of a hare, O lotus-faced one, wiping away the drops of perspiration!" / She spoke while the son of Yadu made sport, delighting her heart.

"O giver of honor, place flowers in my lovely hair, the chowrie banner of mind-born love, / loosened by amorous pleasure, charming, magnificent as a peacock's plumage!" / So she spoke as the son of Yadu, the delighter of her heart, sported.

"O noble-minded one, clothe my passionate, full, lovely hips, the cave for the elephant of the destroyer of Śambara, / with jewels, a girdle, and garments!" / So she spoke as the son of Yadu, the delighter of her heart, sported.

O compassionate one, fix your heart upon the pleasing words of Śrī Jayadeva, an ornament / that dispels the fever of worldly existence and the taints of the Kali age through the nectar of remembering Hari's feet! / So she spoke as the son of Yadu, the delighter of her heart, sported.

"Draw decorative leaf patterns upon my breasts, adorn my cheeks, / fasten the girdle of bells upon my hips, garland the mass of my braided hair, / place rows of bangles upon my hands, and put anklets upon my feet!" / Thus addressed, Pītāmbara, delighted, did just so.

Whatever skill in the art of music, whatever meditation upon Viṣṇu, / whatever discernment of the truth of erotic sentiment, and whatever playful charm in poetic verse [there may be]— / let wise people joyfully examine it all in the glorious Gītagovinda / composed by the learned poet Jayadeva, whose mind is single-pointedly devoted to Kṛṣṇa.

May the poetic art of the glorious Gītagovinda, by the venerable Jayadeva, / son of Śrī Bhojadeva and born of Rāmādevī, / rest upon the throats of dear friends such as Parāśara and others!