Mine Is Gopal

Mine Is Gopal Mine is Gopal, the Mountain-Holder; there is no one else. On his head he wears the peacock-crown: He alone is my husband. Father, mother, brother, relative: I have none to call my own. I've forsaken both God, and the family's honor: what should I do? I've sat near the holy ones, and I've lost shame before the people. I've torn my scarf into shreds; I'm all wrapped up in a blanket. I took off my finery of pearls and coral, and strung a garland of wildwood flowers. With my tears, I watered the creeper of love that I planted; Now the creeper has grown spread all over, and borne the fruit of bliss. The churner of the milk churned with great love. When I took out the butter, no need to drink any buttermilk. I came for the sake of love-devotion; seeing the world, I wept. Mira is the maidservant of the Mountain-Holder: Now with love He takes me across to the further shore.