There was a wondrous place, vast beyond measure—a hundred yojanas wide and four times as long, stretching out in splendor. In the midst of these divine happenings, after I had returned home, you sought her out once more. By her yogic power, she rose from the waters and revealed herself as a perfected yogini, radiant and serene. You embraced her there, and in that union, your seed was lovingly bestowed. I beheld you in the champaka grove, together with a beautiful gopi. Her beauty, as if a living essence, left her form and entered the orb of the moon, shining with celestial grace. All that you had given, you distributed with a pure heart—a portion to the lotus-faced women, a portion to the king, a portion to sandalwood pastes, and another to the waters. Some you gave to fruits and grains, especially those that were well-ripened. Again, you were seen in the forest of Vṛndāvana, radiant beside the Gopī. This time, her radiance departed her body and entered the orb of the sun. What you had given before, you distributed with love and tears—a portion to fire, to kings, to groups of thieves, and even to serpents. Some was given to women blessed with good fortune and to those renowned in the world. You were seen once more, with the peaceful Gopī, within the sacred circle of the rāsa dance. In a palace of jewels, adorned with jeweled lamps, you delighted together. The fragrant betel you offered was enjoyed by her, and at the very sound of my name, you became invisible in an instant. Then, her body was transformed, endowed with the highest qualities. A portion of your gifts went to those devoted to your mantra and to the Vaiṣṇavas, the faithful. I remember seeing you with the Gopī, both graced with forgiveness. She was adorned with jewels, her body anointed with exquisite sandalwood paste. After your new union, blissful sleep embraced you both. Your yellow garment and your enchanting flute were taken, but soon, at the words of your friends, these treasures were returned to you with love. Out of shame, Kṣamā abandoned her body and entered the earth itself. All that you gave, you divided and offered with love, weeping as you did so—bestowing it upon the righteous for the sake of dharma, and a little for the weak and needy. Thus, all these things have been recounted to you; what more do you wish to know? When she had finished speaking, Rādhā’s eyes were reddened like lotus-petals. Gāṅgā, the accomplished yoginī, perceived the secret by her yoga, while Rādhā, too, by yogic insight, saw her presence everywhere. Again, Gāṅgā, through her yogic mastery, understood the mystery. In Goloka, Vaikuṇṭha, Brahmaloka, and all the heavenly realms, everywhere was now devoid of water—a globe of withered lotuses. Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Śiva, Ananta, Dharma, Indra, the Moon, and the Sun themselves all came to Goloka, their throats, lips, and palates parched with thirst. And there, the bestower of boons—the most excellent, the supreme giver of blessings, the source of all boons—awaited, holding the power to grant fulfillment to all.