Verse 13

¹³The lands of Vraja are holy indeed, since this ancient Person, hidden in the marks of a man, garlanded with bright flowers of the woods, goes about tending the cattle with Bala and sounding his flute at his play, he whose feet the mountain's protector and Fortune have worshipped. ¹⁴What austerity did the cowherd women do, that they drink with their eyes this beauty of his, the very heart of loveliness, with nothing equal to it and nothing above it and nothing outside it that makes it what it is, new at every moment, hard to come by, the one home of fame and fortune and mastery? ¹⁵The women of Vraja are fortunate. At the milking and the husking, the churning and the smearing, the swinging of the cradle, a child's crying, the sprinkling and the sweeping and the rest, they sing of him with their hearts drawn to him and tears in their throats, and their minds go to the wide-strider.

¹⁶In the morning as he goes out from Vraja, and in the evening as he comes in with the cattle, sounding his flute, the women hear it and come out quickly onto the road, and, having great merit, they look at that face with its smile and its kind glance.