O gentle cuckoo, resting in the serene embrace of an orchard abloom with flowers, hear my lament. Hṛṣīkeśa, the revered Lord who commands the senses of His devotees, is adored and venerated by celestial beings from all directions. Despite His glory, He remains concealed from my sight, leaving me to endure great suffering. This concealment has robbed me of my beauty, diminishing