अरुणारुणे निदधती ततोऽम्बरे रतिकेलिभङ्गज-रुषाऽरुणां दृशम् ।
ललितोपहासजनित-स्मितानना वृषभानुजाह मृदुमञ्जुभाषिणी ॥
अनूरुरप्यस्तमयन् क्षणार्द्धान्नभो विलङ्घ्योदयमेति सोऽयम् ।
चेत् सोरुमेनं स विधिर्व्यधास्यद्वार्त्तापि रात्रेर्न तदाभविष्यत् ॥
After hearing Lalitā’s teasing words, Vārṣabhānavī Śrī Rādhā smiled and began to speak in a soft, sweet voice. With eyes reddened in anger from having her lovemaking disturbed, she looked toward the crimson morning sky and said, “The sun, even though having no thighs, sinks below the horizon and traverses the sky. But within half a moment he once again rises at dawn. Perhaps if Lord Brahmā had created thighs for him, we would never have even heard of the night.”
मनोरमां वीक्ष्य विभात-लक्ष्मीं निपीय तस्या वचनासवं च ।
मुदोन्मना विस्मृत-गोष्ठयानः प्राणेश्वरीं तामवदन्मुकुन्दः ॥
इनं प्रभातोपगतं समीक्ष्य कान्तेव कान्तान्तर-भुक्तकान्तम् ।
पश्यान्यदिक्सङ्ग-कषायिताङ्गं प्राचीयमीर्ष्यारुणितेव जाता ॥
Beholding the splendor of the early morning and delirious with joy from drinking the nectar of Rādhā’s words, Mukunda forgot about going to the pasturing grounds. He said to his prāṇeśvarī, “Look Priyā! Just as a young girl becomes red with jealousy when her boyfriend arrives in the morning bearing love-marks from another girl, in the same way, the eastern sky reddens in jealousy when she sees her husband Sūrya arrive at dawn colored by the touch of the other directions.”
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