Mother, the moon I want as my toy.
I will roll on the floor,
Not come to your lap,
Nor have my hair-braid combed.
No longer will I be your child
I will only be Nand baba's boy.
Listen son, come to me
There's a secret from bal we can hide.
Hiding her smile, Yasoda said,
I'll give you a brand new bride.
Quick then, Mother, I swear by you
A wedding is what I'd like.
Krishna Wanting The Moon
Sant Surdas
(1)
Poem topics: child, hair, moon, smile, son, wedding, listen, bride, hide, secret, floor, swear, mother, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation