To the Master who dances in the center of night, Now I am weary, and now I am still, Resting my heart on Govinda’s own will. To the Master who dances in the center of night, Now I am weary, and now I am still, Resting my heart on Govinda’s own will. (Intro) The grass is a fire beneath my feet, As I hurry through the dust of the village street. I cannot stay and I cannot wait, To see the Blue Boy at the temple gate. My bangles are clashing a frantic refrain, To the rhythm of love and the rhythm of pain. The wind is a whisper that’s calling my name, And my spirit is caught in the sapphire flame. I look to the North and I look to the West, With a heavy-eyed longing inside of my chest. Is that a flute-song, or just the breeze, Moving the leaves of the Kadamba trees? I’m a shadow in motion, I’m a bird on the wing, Searching the woods for the Cowherd King. The shadow of Gopal is all that I seek, As the kajjala runs down my burning cheek. To the Master who dances in the center of night, Now I am weary, and now I am still, Resting my heart on Govinda’s own will. To the Master who dances in the center of night, Now I am weary, and now I am still, Resting my heart on Govinda’s own will. The path is a circle that never will end, Around every thicket and every bend. I’m lost in the logic of "soon" and "now," With the sweat of the spirit upon my brow. The Hunter has found me, the Prize is won, Reflected in eyes that outshine the sun. But the Prize is a runner, a silver desire, Dancing alone in the Govinda fire. To the Master who dances in the center of night, Now I am weary, and now I am still, Resting my heart on Govinda’s own will. To the Master who dances in the center of night, Now I am weary, and now I am still, Resting my heart on Govinda’s own will. (Bridge) The world is a blur and the world is a race, To find the light of His beautiful face. Gopal is the center, Gopal is the goal, The magnetic north of the shivering soul. I’m a needle that’s spinning, I’m a leaf in the gale, In a story of love that will never turn pale. To the Master who dances in the center of night, Now I am weary, and now I am still, Resting my heart on Govinda’s own will. To the Master who dances in the center of night, Now I am weary, and now I am still, Resting my heart on Govinda’s own will. To the Master who dances in the center of night, Now I am weary, and now I am still, Resting my heart on Govinda’s own will. (The Prayer to the Golden Queen): Tapta-kañchana-gaurāṅgi rādhe vṛndāvaneśvari Vṛṣabhānu-sute devi praṇamāmi hari-priye Tapta-kañchana-gaurāṅgi rādhe vṛndāvaneśvari Vṛṣabhānu-sute devi praṇamāmi hari-priye Tapta-kañchana-gaurāṅgi rādhe vṛndāvaneśvari Vṛṣabhānu-sute devi praṇamāmi hari-priye Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare. Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare. Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare.
