O my dear friend, don’t go to the banks of the Yamuna
A particular dark complexioned youth stands there
In a threefold bending pose with a mischievous smile
You will lose your heart and not come back from there
O my dear friend, don’t ever look upon that hero named Krishna
Playing upon his flute, emanating a sound which captivates the heart
His sidelong glances will steal your peace of mind and render you mad
You will forget all about your family responsibilities and that shall just be the start
O my dear friend, certainly don’t let him make you drink the nectar of his lips
tasting which you shall never find pleasure in anything else in your life
and withholding you from tasting more of that nectar, he shall torment you
And thus you shall make the forest groves your residence and forget the way home
Therefore, O my dear friend, don’t go to the banks of the Yamuna
For there the thief of the Gopis hearts is standing under a Kadamba tree
Waiting for simple and naive cowherd maidens like you, to capture them
And hold them within his heart and perform various amorous pastimes with them