Sakha, why did you come to my swaymvar,
When you had no intentions of marrying me?
Our eyes met surrounded by the lusty gaze of Princes.
(Was I the prize their manhood waited for deservingly?)
Blue-skinned with honey eyes; you were not to be missed,
Balarama was by your side, but you talked to me
With your nonchalant gestures and movement of lips,
The memory of which is both fresh and distant,
Just like a forbidden dream: cherished but not to recall.
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