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Surdas wrote:


When will He of the beautiful lotus eyes-

my Shyama visit me?


The booming and red flowers that, with Him

by our side gave us joy-


without Him now burn us like scintillating fire.

What avails it, our going now to gather

flowers in the Garden?


When Hari is not there with us,

Flowers pricks us like thorns.


When I go to Jamuna, my eyes flow in torrents,

and the very waters rise, with these

accumulated tears.


At times my bed is so covered with tears,

that I could well make a canoe of it and

on it reach my Beloved.


My breath is leaving my lips-Dear One!

come and save me by granting Thy vision.

Thus sing Surdas, the song of gopis.