Cold, cold is my bed in winter!
Cold, cold is my bed in winter!But for my
Lord, who will embrace me passionately?
Cold, cold is my bed in winter!
Today, dear, this harsh winter closes in
And scares the frail ones like me.
My frozen little body sets our being ablaze!
But for my love, who will slake me?
Cold, cold is my bed in winter!
But for my love, who will embrace me passionately?
Every single moment of this night is aeon to me!
How futile is my empty bed,
I thank heavens that I met Narsaiyya's Lord,
For I attained the Nectar of Immortality!
Cold, cold is my bed in winter!
But for my Lord, who will embrace me passionately?
poem by Narsinh Mehta
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True Fulfillment Of My Birth
True fulfillment of my birth is in loving my beloved forever!
Never with dry rituals and harsh austerities
Would I torture my tender body!
All the time I'd play the games of love with my beloved!
True fulfillment of my birth is in loving my beloved forever!
When the final liberation waits on me like a menial servant,
Why should I worship someone else?
True fulfillment of my birth is in loving my beloved forever!
In all our births to come we will ever be your servants!
And the divinel eel a of Narsaiyya's lord we will sing forever!
True fulfillment of my birth is in loving my beloved forever!
poem by Narsinh Mehta
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Gimme that moon to play with
`Gimme that moon to play with, Ma! Gimme those stars!
Gimme those clusters and stuff them all in my pocket!’
He flushes, he cries, he stares at the moon
Jasoda wipes his tears, ‘Don’t be so crazy, Kanha!
The moon is far up in the sky! There are kids in every house,
You alone don’t seem to have any sense!’
`Gimme that moon to play with, Ma! Gimme those stars!
Gimme those clusters and stuff them all in my pocket!’
Taking water in a bowl, she showed him the moon
And consoled Narsaiyya’s Lord!
`Gimme that moon to play with, Ma! Gimme those stars!
Gimme those clusters and stuff them all in my pocket!’
poem by Narsinh Mehta
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I went to fetch water from the lake
I went to fetch water from the lake, but my love wont let me, O mother!
Kneading my firm breasts, he lusted for the nectar of my lips, O mother!
I went to fetch water from the lake, but my love wont let me, O mother!
'How did you hurt your lips' my mother-in-law suspiciously asks.
'It was my girl friend's nail as she was helping me with the pots'
I went to fetch water from the lake, but my love wont let me, O mother!
I had gone in a great hurry but my love held me back,
It is excellent to attain Narsaiyya's Lord,
For he made me like himself, O mother!
I went to fetch water from the lake, but my love wont let me, O mother!
poem by Narsinh Mehta
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Cherish red, love, for the beautiful season is tinged with red!
Cherish red, love, for the beautiful season is tinged with red!
Rosy is the glow on laughing Radha's teeth
And scarlet are the bangles on her exquisite hands.
Cherish red, love, for the beautiful season is tinged with red!
Deep red are the flowers that dropp from the kesudo tree,
The dust that blows is rusty and brown,
Red are the beaks of our feathered friends, the parrot and the myna!
Cherish red, love, for the beautiful season is tinged with red!
Red are the garments of all my friends, whose braids have come off,
For frolicking with Narsaiyya's lord, they are drowned in the nectar of joy!
Cherish red, love, for the beautiful season is tinged with red!
poem by Narsinh Mehta
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With Absolute Joy
With absolute joy, I sing thebr ahman!
But those encaptivated by theirk ar ma speak ill of me!
Even the great religious heads cannot fathom you,
They can't even make out priceless jewels from mere beads!
With absolute joy, I sing thebr ahman!
But those encaptivated by theirk ar ma speak ill of me!
What is arcane even for the scriptures is pretty clear for the gopis,
Rare are the ones who can fathom this!
The beloved of Rama lusts not after women,
But these confounded mortals spread base lies!
With absolute joy, I sing thebr ahman!
But those encaptivated by theirk ar ma speak ill of me!
The perfect one is full of the perfect bliss, others worship elsewhere,
But Narsaiyyo sings the attributes of the absolute
And not carnal craving as the lustful think!
With absolute joy, I sing thebr ahman!
But those encaptivated by theirk ar ma speak ill of me!
poem by Narsinh Mehta
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Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex
Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex,
For her strength alone can please the mighty hero!
What's the use of this manliness, friend,
When it is of no use to the lord at all?
Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex!
A man might attain the ultimate release,
If he sticks to the path of virtue,
But to indulge in the scrumptious joys of pretended anger
And the lord pleading to make up and other such games,
You simply have to be a woman!
Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex!
For her strength can please the mighty hero!
Even the gods like Indra and the great sages
Revere the very dust of gopis' feet,
Considering themselves lesser than the gopis
As they find their manhood insipid!
Essence of essence the birth of the weaker sex,
For her strength can please the mighty hero!
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poem by Narsinh Mehta
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The Sea Of Ecstasy Has Ebbed And Gone, Dear Friend
The sea of ecstasy has ebbed and gone, dear friend
The ocean of sorrow floods and overwhelms.
How shall we, the weak survive, now that you have forsaken us?
The sea of ecstasy has ebbed and gone, dear friend
The ocean of sorrow floods and overwhelms.
Friend now that he has left nothing remains; he has taken everything.
The sea of ecstasy has ebbed and gone, dear friend
The ocean of sorrow floods and overwhelms.
We didn't hold out our palav in complete surrender then,
Now what is the point of rubbing our hands in vain?
The sea of ecstasy has ebbed and gone, dear friend
The ocean of sorrow floods and overwhelms.
He knows not our pains, and he has broken all the bonds of childhood love,
He has broken all the bonds of affection; Hari-O that dandy has betrayed us!
The sea of ecstasy has ebbed and gone, dear friend
The ocean of sorrow floods and overwhelms.
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poem by Narsinh Mehta
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Unless And Until You Have Grasped The Essence Of The Self
Unless and until you have grasped the essence of the Self
Vain are all your efforts and like unseasonal rains,
You have wasted your human birth.
So what if you have taken a holy bath
Or offered twilight prayers and worship?
So what if you have stayed at home and given alms?
So what if you keep matted locks and smear ashes?
So what if you have plucked hair on your head?
Unless and until you have grasped the essence of the Self
Vain are all your efforts and like unseasonal rains,
You have wasted your human birth.
So what if you indulge in recitation, penance or go on a pilgrimage?
So what if you count beads and chant the holy name
So what if you put on at il ak or worship Tulsi?
So what if you drink the water of Ganga?
Unless and until you have grasped the essence of the Self
Vain are all your efforts and like unseasonal rains,
You have wasted your human birth.
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poem by Narsinh Mehta
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You May Have Obtained Nama
You may have obtained nama, but without Rama
Your title of Vaishnava is barren like a cradle in a childless home
Or a marriage procession without groom!
Lord resides within you, but you couldn't discern him;
You wander aimlessly thinking him to be afar;
You calculate about the One beyond the calculations;
You limit the Illimitable
And in this state of twoness, you count your futile beads!
You may have obtained nama, but without Rama
Your title of Vaishnava is barren like a cradle in a childless home
Or a marriage procession without groom!
You try to be Harijan without having Hari!
How can pangs of hunger subside by a bash of hollow words?
How can throes of separation subside by mere donning of ascetic clothes?
It is like the futile roaring of rainless clouds!
You may have obtainednama, but without Rama
Your title of Vaishnava is barren like a cradle in a childless home
Or a marriage procession without groom!
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poem by Narsinh Mehta
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