Oh, tortured mothers of Vrindavan,
What dark karma has brought you here?
Homeless, hungry, cold, weak, tired, alone.
What crime of which birth
will be absolved by this torture?
It does break, my heart, thinking
‘Is this the so-called heavenly abode?’
Of that great Gwala?
The songs of whose flute
would make nature stand aside.
The one whose face melted hearts
And terrified demons alike.
He who is purity personified?
For in this ‘divine land’
ripe with pain and misery
As if the tyrant of Mathura
powerful and reborn
regained control once
the Gwala took his leave.
What divine power allows
Such pain to remain
For in this dark yuga
Suffering is often a sign.
I hope only that whatever this may be
Tradition or ignorance,
It may be foregone.
So that this cursed world of ours
Might just be an imitation of
Of the great world
When the Gwala still resides
Watching over you and me.
Great content! Keep up the good work!