Radhika is far from Krishna, yet with the eyes of love she sees what is happening in the forest. Krishna is playing his flute there — and the shy deer, who bolt away at a single human footstep, slowly come out of the thicket and draw very close to him. Without a trace of fear they gaze at him and worship him with the very glances of their beautiful eyes. And the cows, hearing the flute, raise their big ears like two cups to drink that sweet sound; the grass hangs from the corners of their mouths — they have forgotten to chew. A calf that was suckling stops and forgets to swallow: the milk runs past, sliding down the side of its mouth, and along with the milk the tears roll down — it feels as if Krishna has touched it. The whole forest is spellbound — even the most timid. And Radhika alone sighs: even these deer run to him without fear — and I cannot.