Verse 8

⁵Bhagavan said: Ah, god, these here bow with their heads to your lotus feet, which the best of the immortals worship, bringing flowers and fruit for their offering, so as to strike away the darkness of their own for which their birth as trees was made. ⁶These bees are singing your fame, which is a ford for all the worlds, and they follow after the first Person and serve him. Most likely they are companies of sages, chief among your own, who will not leave their god and self even in a wood, sinless one, hidden though he is. ⁷These peacocks are dancing, one worthy of praise, and the does with delight do what is dear to you with their glances, as the cowherd women do, and the cuckoos with fine words, for one who has come to their house. Fortunate are the dwellers in the wood: such is the nature of the good.

⁸Fortunate today is this earth, and the grass and plants your feet have touched, and the trees and creepers your nails have brushed, and the rivers and hills and birds and beasts your kind looks have fallen on, and the cowherd women held between your arms, which even Sri longs for.