The First Days of Spring

The aroma of the chant is a bee,
Buzzing, calling, a magnet pulling
Me away from wife and friends,
Forgetful of all but Krishna,
A baby-
God is a cowherd boy, a baby,
All of us are babies, crying
For our mother, Krishna,
A little bee, buzzing,
And stinging me, a cruel lover,
When I scream so hard for You
And You don't let me see You-
My body is exhausted, my voice broken-
Look what You've done to me!
I can't understand You, but I love You-
Do what You want with me-
I'll never know why You cheat me,
It only seems to be cheating because I'm a fool,
Do whatever You want-
Ruin me-
Your sting is all I ask for,
And perhaps a glimpse, now and then,
Of Your Lotus Feet-
Krishna-