Verse 19

¹⁹We trusted his crooked talk as though it were true, like foolish does, wives of the black buck, trusting a fowler's call, and again and again we knew this sharp pain of love from the touch of his nails. Counsellor, talk about something else. ²⁰Dear friend, have you come again, sent by our beloved? Ask for something. What do you want? I must honour you, dear one. But how will you take us to the side of that pair who cannot be parted? Gentle one, Sri his bride is on his breast always, there with him. ²¹So the son of that noble house is in the city of Madhu now. Does he remember his father's house, gentle one, and his kinsmen and the cowherds? Does he ever tell any story about us, his servants? When will he lay that arm, sweet with aloe, on our heads?