नृत्यन् मे हृदये नित्यं वादयन् मुरलीं मृदु ।

कर्णयो: प्रेषयन् नादमितरेषामगोचर: ।।३७४।।

Always dancing in my heart and softly playing your flute, you send its tune to my ears, unseen by others.

वाचि मे स्थापयन् शब्दान् मनस्यर्थान् जनार्दन ।

त्वमेव मे चालयसि हस्तौ पादौ च माधव ।।३७५।।

Placing words in my speech and meanings in my heart, you make my hands and feet move, O Mādhava.

यदि त्वं मे वादयिता कथं ख्यामि वदाम्यहम् ।

यदि त्वं मे चालयिता कथं ख्यामि चलाम्यहम् ।।३७६।।

If you make me speak, how can I say that I am speaking?  If you make me walk, how can I say that I am walking?

कथं मन्वे स्वयमहं त्वं मनोरथसारथि: ।

हृदये त्वं कविरसि कवयामि कथं हरे ।।३७७।।

How can I think on my own, if you are the driver of my mind?  You are the poet in my heart.  How can [I say] I write poetry?

त्वयि तिष्ठति जिह्वाग्रे स्वयमायाति भारती ।

मदीया कवितेत्येतदलीकं कथयाम्यहम् ।।३७८।।

When you reside on my tongue, Sarasvatī, the Goddess of Learning, comes on her own.  I am telling a lie that it is my poetry.

त्वमेव शब्दान् ग्रथ्नासि तवेयं कृष्ण लेखनी ।

करोऽपि मे तवैवायं मदीया कविता कथम् ।।३७९।।

You yourself compose [my] words and this pen is yours.  This hand is also yours.  Then how can the poem be mine?

तवैव कवितायाति मदीयकरयोर्हरे ।

समर्पयामि तां तुभ्यं सुमनोमालिकामहम् ।।३८०।।

Your own poetry comes into my hands, O Krishna, and, like a garland of flowers, I offer it to you.

यदा पश्यामि गोविन्द दर्पणे हृदयस्य मे ।

तदा त्वामेव पश्यामि न जाने क्व गतोऽस्म्यहम् ।।३८१।।

O Krishna, when I look in the mirror of my heart, I only see you.  I don’t know where I have gone.

कीदृशी तव लीलेयं या मां मत्तोऽप्यपाहरत् ।

प्रविश्य मे हृदाकाशं त्वया निष्कासितोऽस्म्यहम् ।।३८२।।

What sort of a play is this that it abducted me from myself.  Entering the space of my heart, you have exiled me [my ego].

अहन्ता मेऽपनीताद्य हृदि मे त्वमवस्थित: ।

तवायमस्तु प्रासादो मदीयं नाम केवलम् ।।३८३।।

My ego has been removed and you are situated in my heart.  May this palace be yours.  Mine is only the name.