At the aim of His slingshot,
While Kanha shattered a butter pot
And ate it off His hand,
The cows and calves rearing around
Missed the Bansilal's bansuri.
As their wails reached Him,
The Pied Piper blew on His flute
To which emerged a cadence
So inebriating
That with heads raised to the Heavens,
The cows and the calves danced
To the transcendental enchantment
Dripping in the sweet nectar
Of our own little
Krishna.
Krishna | कृष्णा
Krishna SC06001