Radha, did you ever
Return to the banks of the Yamuna
Did you ever again
Hear the sweet flute’s strain
Did you look into the dark waters
And shadowy reflection feign
Did you ever, Radha
Look back to Vrindavan in vain

Did you leave first or did Krishna have to go
Did the world beckon both of you so
that you had to leave such deep love, so true
That they say, in love, even the Lord turned blue
Did the love remain, Radha, do you see it still
Does it come and envelop you, even against your will?

Does the sun shine for you, does the heart ache sweet
When you go down to the river, your other friends to meet
He never came back home, did he? He had other things to do
And you? You, who loved him so – what of you?
Did you hear his glories carried upon gossipy waves
Did you hear of wars or the tales of wifely enclaves

He loved again, you knew he would
For he was love divine
But you were him, and he was you,
For that – did you pine?
You could not even bear the flute, they say
It took him away from your time…

You were the one, Radha, the only one
The wiles of the others futile
If you were love, and in love with love
Could you bear the news of nine
And sixteen thousand more that came
Their love not greater than thine

But what of him, who loved you so
Was he yours again to love evermore
And in your heart, your heart of hearts
Did the flute caress your brow
Was he the light, the breath you took, the step you took so slow
Or was he gone, leaving you alone, yet linked, slightly in tow

(I may edit it to make it rhyme, but the story of love that speaks for itself needs no rhyme)


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