On full moon nights in secret groves
One knew not that there was another
Krishna, did you give her your all?
Her sleeping life, children and home
Sandbanks, timerafts, rivers of loss
She crossed drawn in by a playful flute
Krishna, did you play on her will?
She talked of delight and dreamt of dungeons
To stay was death, to leave, even worse
Her whole being burned in hell-fires of trust
Krishna, did you touch her ashes at all?
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