Poem 46

In plain words

O Gopāla, child at play with the song of the flute, why do You not show Your face, darling of the gopīs? Have You forgotten Your mother's Prema, my child? Have You gone off to Mathurā? Have You left all fondness behind? Thinking, ‘Here You come, there You come,’ I have watched for You till now; I cannot bear to stay, come! I cannot live without You!