Gita Govinda 2.11.10

2.11.10

"She will see me; she will speak words of love; limb by limb with embraces / she will find joy; she will delight, O friend, having arrived"—in this way, troubled by longing, / your lover sees you, trembles, bristles with thrill, rejoices, sweats, / goes forth to meet you, and faints in the arbor deep in dense darkness.