Whirlwind of the Divine Child
The Supreme Pastimes — The Divine Arrival
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Beneath the sky of Vṛndāvana’s light,  

A cart fell shattered by infant might.  

The sound of hymns and brāhmaṇas' grace,  

Could not conceal the sacred trace.  



The wheel was struck by tender feet,  

A child's revolt in hunger’s heat.  

The crowd unsure of what was seen,  

While Kṛṣṇa smiled, serene, unseen.  



Through dust and dark the tempest cried,  

But Kṛṣṇa held the storm inside.  

A demon fell, the sky grew clear—  

No fear remains where God is near.  



Tṛṇāvarta rose with howling wind,  

To steal the joy that love had pinned.  

But heavier grew the baby's frame,  

And crushed the storm that dared His name.  



The demon's limbs, now broken lie,  

While Kṛṣṇa laughed beneath the sky.  

The gopīs wept with joy anew,  

The soul they lost returned so true.  



Through dust and dark the tempest cried,  

But Kṛṣṇa held the storm inside.  

A demon fell, the sky grew clear—  

No fear remains where God is near.  



O mothers, see what fate has spun,  

Within His mouth, the moon and sun.  

The rivers, stars, the earth and air,  

All dance within His gentle stare.  



The cosmic truth in infant form,  

Beyond all birth, beyond all norm.  

The child divine, the soul’s repose,  

In every breath, the cosmos flows.  



Through dust and dark the tempest cried,  

But Kṛṣṇa held the storm inside.  

A demon fell, the sky grew clear—  

No fear remains where God is near.  



Through dust and dark the tempest cried,  

But Kṛṣṇa held the storm inside.  



Through dust and dark the tempest cried,  

But Kṛṣṇa held the storm inside.