In spir ing Prayers from Bh ägavat a Puräë a
C a n t o 10
The cloud showers flowers onto his dear friend Kåñëa and shades Him from the sun like an umbrella. vividha-gopa-caraëeñu vidagdho veëu-vädya urudhä nija-çikñäù tava sutaù sati yadädhara-bimbe datta-veëur anayat svara-jätéù savanaças tad upadhärya sureçäù çakra-çarva-parameñöhi-purogäù kavaya änata-kandhara-cittäù kaçmalaà yayur aniçcita-tattväù O pious mother Yaçodä, your son, who is expert in all the arts of herding cows, has invented many new styles of flute-playing. When He takes His flute to His bimba-red lips and sends forth the tones of the harmonic scale in variegated melodies, Brahmä, Çiva, Indra and other chief demigods become confused upon hearing the sound. Although they are the most learned authorities, they cannot ascertain the essence of that music, and thus they bow down their heads and hearts. nija-padäbja-dalair dhvaja-vajra nérajäìkuça-vicitra-lalämaiù vraja-bhuvaù çamayan khura-todaà varñma-dhurya-gatir éòita-veëuù vrajati tena vayaà sa-viläsa vékñaëärpita-manobhava-vegäù kuja-gatià gamitä na vidämaù kaçmalena kavaraà vasanaà vä As Kåñëa strolls through Vraja with His lotus-petal-like feet, marking the ground with the distinctive emblems of flag, thunderbolt, lotus and elephant goad, He relieves the distress the ground feels from the cows’ hooves. As He plays His renowned flute, His body moves with the grace of an elephant. Thus we gopés, who become agitated by Cupid when Kåñëa playfully glances at us, stand as still as trees, unaware that our hair and garments are slackening.
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