My office lies in Mathura - my heart's at Gokul. If I were the Lord, I'd leave my Mathura and go to Gokul. I'd leave my Mathura, and see my Radha - by the river Jamuna, where perhaps, she's bathing. And her hand, at her unawares, for a kiss I'd seize - like of old I tended to - so that she may plead of me, as of old, not to. Then like a meek girl, run away.
Radha is, Gokul is, and Radha's Gokul. So I'd see in Gokul her great flashing eyes - that does both illuminate and strike. Then fancy, perhaps, that her fire's still burning - that she's still waiting. Fancy...perhaps.
But she's no Radha, and she's not waiting. And I'm no Krishna, so there's no going.