His favorite

(1274)  Esechile prabhu surera mayay

Lord, with melodic magic come You had,
Ever singing songs upon the path.
None was there to welcome Thee;
At daybreak all were fast asleep.

You don't discern greetings or wreathes,
And by devotees You weren't ringed.
On Your mouth was a grin, tuneful flute in company;
You appeared, assuming shape with rhythmic beats.

With anklets jingling on sweet feet,
You took the readied place in niche of psyche.
In mind's Vrndavan, privately and in a trice,
You arrived, kohl on Your eyes,
Filling the heart of a favorite.

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