May your form play forever in the courtyard of my heart

idaṁ te mukhāmbhojam atyanta-nīlair

Your lotus face of sapphire hue,
Outshines the sky’s deep shade of blue.
Its smile so soft, its glance so sweet,
Make heavenly beauty fall at your feet.

(Damodarashtakam — Verse 5, Line 1)

My dear Lord, your beauty is beyond description, yet my limited words find their perfection when I attempt what can never be fully done. Still, you accept my attempt, and that very effort, when offered in devotion, pleases you and purifies me, enabling me to relish your beauty even if I can never express it completely.

O butter thief of Vrindavan, your face glows brighter than the full moon mirrored in the Yamuna’s flow. Your eyes—wide and wondering—are twin lotuses that dart about, avoiding your mother’s loving glare. Your cheeks, round as ripe fruit, bear no dust, though your feet raise clouds of it as you run through the courtyard, dodging your mother. Your lips, soft as petal edges, curl into a smile that melts creation’s pride; yet now they tremble, wordlessly pleading to calm your mother’s loving ire.

O beloved Lord, let my heart become that courtyard where you forever play—so I may savor your love within and share it without, for all time to come.