ৱ্ৰজৰাজসুতাষ্টকম্

Worship the treasure that is Krishna, the son of Vraja's king — eight verses on that refrain, and what separates them from the other portrait hymns here is that nearly every line is a contest. His complexion reviles the fresh rain-cloud; the curve of his brow throws doubt on Indra's bow; the moon of his face abuses a crore of moons; the gems at his feet shame the pride of the bee; the Kaustubha at his chest puts the sun out of countenance. The plain details are there as well — the peacock crest curving finely, the makara earrings swinging at the ears, the yellow cloth wound at the waist, the anklets, the feet marked with flag and thunderbolt and fish, the sandal worked into the body. The eighth verse alone names his companion, and names her by her father: intent on choice play with the daughter of Vrishabhanu.