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Gita Govinda 3.p8

The Indian Song of Songs 3.p8

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3.p8

And yet I seem to feel, to know, thee near me;
Thy steps make music, measured music, near:
Radha! my Radha! will not sorrow clear me?
Shine once! speak one word pitiful and dear!
Wilt thou not hear?
Canst thou--because I did forget--forsake me?

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