I may have been a gopi
but might have also been a nun
I remember flower garlands
And constricted praying stuns
I can still smell rainy grass
also stone dump mossy walls
In my lips the sweet surrender
and the taste of none at all
I can still hear me cantillating
I still feel the same devotion
I have never ceased the dancing
Nor have I put things to motion
But forever I'll be praising
And eternal is my chanting.
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