Gitagovinda 2.11.29

2.11.29

Whose lovely wreath of flowers was like a cloud touched inside by moonbeams, / who wore a pure sandalwood forehead mark like the orb of the moon rising out of darkness— / she gazed upon Hari, devoted to a single aesthetic flavor, his amorous dalliance long desired, / his face mastered by intense joy, an abode of the Bodiless One.