What Penance Did I Do to Become Your Mother?
O Kanna, with the skin of bluish hue, you look innocent,
You steal not only hearts of pretty girls but butter too,
The people who want to complain about you wait in a queue,
Every second spent with you stretches and looks like eons.
You steal not only butter but hearts of pretty maidens too,
Your mischief is beyond the limits of my understanding,
You slay demons real and imaginary on the mind of everyone,
But I am tired playing hide and seek with your antics.
The people who want to complain about you wait in a queue,
Yet you mesmerise them with your magical music of the flute,
They become fascinated oblivious of the passage of time,
And go home with rapturous joy and in a state of ecstasy.
Every second spent with you stretches and looks like eons,
You show me the whole universe in your little mouth,
You break the trees in the backyard in the seconds you are out of my sight,
O Krishna, what penance did I do to become your mother?
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