Poem for Jul 27


Canto 1, Chapter 11, Text 2

sa uccakāśe dhavalodaro daro
’py urukramasyādharaśoṇa-śoṇimā
dādhmāyamānaḥ kara-kañja-sampuṭe
yathābja-khaṇḍe kala-haṁsa utsvanaḥ

The white and fat-bowled conchshell, being gripped by the hand of Lord Kṛṣṇa and sounded by Him, appeared to be reddened by the touch of His transcendental lips. It seemed that a white swan was playing in the stems of red lotus flowers.

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