And quickly repairs his altar,
For the arati begins
When she appears with sweet fragrances
And her body clothed only in jewels
Worshipped by all senses,
Portals of divine experience;
So that I, for the moment, may be Krishna
Playing her like my flute
And thus maintaining a mountain of pleasure
Through the caress of my little finger;
Or, ravish her like Nrsmhadeva tearing into His demon.
And yet, I am also in her power
Like the demons who were once seduced
To give up their immortality
By Vishnu in the form of a woman;
And, like Shiva, I ejaculate silver
Simply from watching the clothes fall from her body.
Our love-making is the Rasa-Lila and the Holiest of Holies;
A bright beam of ecstasy,
Extending through the three worlds
Amid this desolate world of sorrow.
The rubble is cleared from the bed.
The altar is prepared.
The sacrifice is nothing short of the world and its cares;
And we become gods.