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What the flowers, what the flowers O' my Lord
Doeth cherish Thy garland
Flowers forest wild
Strung up five elements, a loud chord
Whilst Pandavas and Kauravas
Clashed and crashed and crushed in thunders
A kind otherwise different
Of a change fervent
To Arjun Bhagavadatta's slaying vaishnavastra
Forbade Thy merciful neck; to Thine whirled a Vaijayantimaala
Mother ours, Thy consort, Thy conscience
Sanctifying our flow of transcience
Variably altering Radha to Godha
Seethai to Kothai, Rukmini to Satyabhama
All but one Lakshmi when conjoined
Thy heart garlanding fragrance piled
And those colours highly bewitching
Thy enchanting flute so matching
What a poise Thee and Thy Vaijayanti
Doeth look like Gopis resting on Thee
Else, gentle Alwars reciting Paasurams
Nestled Vaijayanti genuinely toes down in tassels
Each end velvety bearing on a blot
Me, Thy child a tiny dot
At Thy lotus feet joyously feel
Myself soused in fragrant Vaijayanti whole
Jasmine and lily all varieties white
Lotus, rose, nerium all red and bright
Scented leaves of tender green delight
Yellow, blue, purple potpourri intrusively right
Interspersed with a leafy craft of nerium-parrot
Intertwined with entangled strands of basil
Thy vivid persona divine and tranquil
What else for doeth quest this soul mortal
Other than Thee Thy mercy immortal
O' Krishna, fasten me unto Thy lotus feet
My closure amid Thy mercy flowers tight
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