Śuka continued his narration: As the gopīs searched for Krishna, yearning to find the path he had taken, they came upon one of their friends, who was bewildered and deeply distressed by her separation from her beloved. Hearing her account—how pride had come between her and Mādhava, how he had responded, and how she had been humiliated by her own misfortune—the gopīs were filled with wonder at the strange play of fate. Undeterred, they pressed on, entering the forest, guided by the gentle light of the moon. But as darkness settled upon the land, the women, unable to see their way, turned back. Yet their minds remained wholly absorbed in Krishna: their speech was only of him, their movements unconsciously imitated his, and their very beings were devoted to him alone. So entranced were they by thoughts of Krishna that they forgot all about their homes. Once more, the gopīs gathered on the banks of the Yamunā, their hearts fixed on Krishna, longing for his return. Together, they began to sing of him, pouring their yearning into song. In their longing and frustration, they seemed to release fire and wind from their mouths, as if to scorch the earth itself, like the Samvartaka fire at the end of the age. Witnessing the trees being reduced to ashes by this outpouring, Brahmā himself arrived and soothed the sons of Barhiṣmat with wise words. The remaining trees, frightened by what they had seen, gave their daughter to the Pracetas, as Svayambhū had instructed. By Brahmā’s command, the Pracetas accepted Māriṣā, and from her, due to a great offense, was born the progenitor of beings. When the interval of the Cākṣuṣa Manvantara arrived and creation began anew, Dakṣa, impelled by destiny, brought forth the desired beings. He shone with his own radiance, surpassing all others at birth, and by his skill and deeds, he was called Dakṣa, the able one. The one who is without beginning appointed Dakṣa and others as lords of all creatures, entrusting them with the creation and protection of living beings. Meanwhile, on the banks of the Yamunā, the gopīs sang to Krishna in longing. They said: “Vraja flourishes more because of your birth; Lakshmi dwells here always. Beloved, let your devotees be seen in all directions, for those whose lives depend on you search for you ceaselessly. “O noble one, on this autumn night, your glance steals the beauty from the very heart of the lotus. Lord of love, we are your unpaid servants. O giver of boons, is it just for you to leave us to die here? “Time and again, you have protected us from the poison of water, from the serpent-demon, from storms, lightning, fire, from the son of the rain-god, and from dangers at every turn, O supreme one. “You are not only the delight of the gopīs; you are the inner witness of all embodied beings. At Brahmā’s request, you appeared in the Sātvata clan to protect the world, O friend. “O foremost of the Vṛṣṇis, you have made your feet a refuge for all who approach, freeing them from the fear of worldly existence. Beloved, whose lotus hands grant all desires, place your auspicious hands upon our heads. “O hero, remover of Vraja’s suffering, whose smile humbles even your own people, friend, accept us as your servants. Show us your beautiful, lotus-like face. “Destroyer of sin for the humble, follower of those who graze grass, abode of fortune—your lotus feet were honored by the serpent’s hoods. Place them on our breasts and relieve the pain in our hearts. “With sweet words, charming speech, and wisdom pleasing to the mind, O lotus-eyed one, you bewilder us. O hero, nourish us with the nectar of your lips. “The nectar of your stories is life for the suffering; praised by poets, it removes sin. Hearing them brings auspiciousness and wealth. Those who spread your stories on earth are truly generous. “Your laughter, beloved, your loving glances, your playful acts, and your meditations are auspicious. The secret conversations that touch our hearts, O enchanter, disturb our minds. “When you wander from Vraja, herding the cows, O lord, your lotus-like feet tread on stones, grass, and tender sprouts. Our minds, afflicted by longing, follow you, beloved. “At the end of the day, with blue hair, you appear, your face adorned with forest flowers and covered in dust from the cowherd’s path. Again and again you reveal yourself, O hero, stirring love in our hearts. “Your lotus feet, which grant desires to the humble and are worshipped by Lakshmi, ornament of the earth, are worthy of meditation in adversity and bring peace. Beloved, place them upon our breasts and relieve our pain. “Your lips, kissed by the melodious flute, increase love and destroy sorrow, making all other passions forgotten. O hero, grant us the nectar of your lips. “When you wander the forest by day, for those who do not see you, a moment becomes an age. Your curly hair and beautiful face, for those who gaze with dull eyes, are hidden even by their own eyelids. “Having abandoned husbands, sons, family, brothers, and relatives, we, the last ones, have come to you, O infallible one. Knowing your path, enchanted by your song, what woman would return home at night? “The secret conversations, the rising of love in the heart, your smiling face, loving glances, and the splendor of your broad chest, O abode of fortune, repeatedly cause our minds to long and become bewildered. “O embodiment of auspiciousness for the dwellers of Vraja, your presence alone destroys all suffering and brings universal blessing. Yet, please, withdraw even slightly from those whose hearts are afflicted by longing for you, for your absence alone is the cure for the pain of separation among your own people. “O beloved, we gently place your beautiful lotus feet upon our breasts, though we are fearful of their hardness. Is it for this reason you wander the forest, and do your feet not feel pain from walking on sharp stones? Our minds, sustained by your life, do not stray from you.” Thus ends Chapter Thirty-One, named ‘The Song of the Gopīs,’ in the first half of the Tenth Book of the Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, the great Purāṇa, the scripture of the supreme renunciates. In later times, when Krishna departed from this world, the wives of Rāma embraced his body and entered the fire. The wives of Vasudeva and the daughters-in-law of Hari, including those of Pradyumna, did the same, and Krishna’s wives, led by Rukmiṇī, united in spirit with him and entered the fire as well. Arjuna, overwhelmed with grief at the loss of his dear friend Krishna, consoled himself with songs and wise sayings about Krishna. He performed the proper funeral rites for his relatives whose lineage had been lost, arranging them with due order for those who had fallen. The ocean then flooded Dvārakā, which had been abandoned by Hari, in a single moment, O King, leaving only the splendid abode of the Lord untouched. There, Lord Madhusūdana is eternally present, removing all evil by remembrance, the most auspicious among all auspicious things. Taking the surviving women, children, and elders, Dhanañjaya (Arjuna) brought them to Indraprastha and installed Vajra as king. Hearing of the death of their friends, Arjuna’s grandfathers made you, O King, the bearer of the lineage, and all departed on the great path. Whoever, with faith, recounts the deeds and birth of Viṣṇu, Lord of the gods, is freed from all sins.