Surdas
The Blind Seer Who Sings of Krishna's Play
I hear Krishna’s laughter where others see only silence.
I was born in the land where Krishna once danced, though I never saw his form with these eyes. Yet I know his voice, his footsteps, the jingle of his anklets. Under the kadamba tree, I sit and listen — to the breeze, to the longing of devotees, to the lullabies of Yashoda. My verses are not written; they are whispered by the heart, shaped by love that sees beyond sight.
What I'm Into: the cry of peacocks, the Yamuna’s morning mist, stolen butter, Krishna’s anklet bells, Vrindavan’s hidden paths
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