Radha's song

It sang once, now fallen mute,
To my bosom I clasp his flute.
I bring it to my lips to play
But only one thing does it say,
All the notes speak as one...
That I am his, I am his!
The music says that I am his!


They see the madness in my eyes
And hear my lost, plaintive cries.
I look for him here and there.
They follow me in mute despair.
They weep and weep and they say...
That I am his, I am his!
The gopis say that I am his!


The birds that once saw him and me
Sing flying from tree to tree.
"You taught us how to love," they say,
"And yet, where is your love today?"
But in those songs I only hear...
That I am his, I am his!
The birds do say that I am his!


The patient earth bears my feet
In cold and rain and burning heat,
And catches tears when they fall
As for him I call and call.
Only echoes call back to me...
That I am his, I am his!
The echoes say that I am his!


The Yamuna once beheld our dance,
The sacred grace of our romance.
Grieving today with me is she.
Her soothing waters speak to me,
As lovingly they caress my feet...
That I am his, I am his!
The waters say that I am his!


The winds still bring me his scent
As I wonder where my Krishna went.
I follow the gusts of this breeze.
It takes me winding through the trees.
As it dries my tears it says...
That I am his, I am his!
The wind does say that I am his!


Now he dwells on another shore.
I know I will see him no more.
And yet my eyes behold his face,
My limbs quiver in his embrace.
For before he left he said to me...
That I am his, I am his!
My Krishna said that I am his!


Behold, O gods! And be pleased!
For Radha today has truly ceased.
She broke the shackles of her fate
And the Lord walks in her gait!
Now she can say no more...
For she is his, she is his!
The silence says that she is his!

Radha's pots

Seeing Krishna at her window, the gopi's heart leapt with joy. With shining eyes and open arms, she called out to him.

"Come, O thief. My pots are filled today, to the brim. The butter is fresh, and you have no need steal any more. Just for a few moments at your feet, I offer you everything I have."

However, today, Krishna was not tempted. Though he smiled at her, full of love, he passed her by and went to Radha's house.

When Radha saw her beloved at the window, she did not welcome him.

"Go away, you thief! I have nothing left. The pots are empty. You and your friends have robbed me clean!"

But he did not go away. He entered the house, through the window, as was his wont. Meeting Radha's defiant gaze with his smile, he peered into her pots. He found them empty, as she had said.

Then the Lord sat next to those empty pots. He put his flute to his lips and began to play. The whole of Creation stood still, in anticipation of that heavenly sound. And yet, somehow, no one heard anything.

The sound never left Radha's house. Sitting next to those empty pots, Krishna played his flute. The world heard nothing, but the pots were filled with the sound.

And so was she.