The Milkmaid's song

The whiz of husking, chatter of womenfolk,
and the whish of churning have stopped
Nanda's village has gone calm, its twilight:
Awaiting the return of men who left early;

It is so many years now since Akrura
summoned our beloved cowherd away
but still, this evening, my heart stops
as I hear this nearing clatter: of hooves,
stray moos, and desultory voices of men

Maybe, suddenly, out of that raised dust
He will appear, the dark one, like on that
distant day, He loomed sublime, dancing,
of swarthy Jamuna, on the serpent's head