My Yamuna, I bow down to your love,
which has kept me awake while drowning in your flow for thousands of years
—I am like a wild bird waiting for you to bestow blessings from your gentle hands.
My Yamuna, flow toward the realm of divine dreams.
If in your divine dreams you see me,
give your eternal smile to me
—this admirer of yours, who stands stunned, full of gratitude, steadfastly bearing sorrow selflessly, with a heart pierced by longing.
— I will sleep alone,
while thousands of wild birds fly above you,
O my Yamuna.
Flow, my Yamuna.
Do not be sad because of me.
I will always miss the birds that circle above you,
and the gentle breeze that whispers between the hymns
in the holy temples along your banks in Vrindavan.
Flow, my Yamuna, with your beautiful, everlasting smile
—amid the praises of countless devotees of Radha and Krishna,
who walk through the centuries singing and celebrating your timeless love story.
Flow, Yamuna; here I, your helpless devotee,
will continue to worship you in silence and submission.
Oh Yamuna,
why is the world so cruel that I keep remembering your eternal smile
—which is now covered in worldly mud along the winding rivers in the land of Bharata Varsha?
Bless me, who wakes without being able to close my eyes on your eternal shores,
as you wash away all the sorrows felt by your devotees.
Yamuna, 2026
