Those splendid walls, and domed roofs.
Display my feminine valour.
The wall carvings define my chaste.
My prestige is behind my colour.

I am the topic of great sages,
Who live to tell the lore.
By my lord, I was deemed,
Sinless, gracious, and pure.

My lord's flute sound used to fill me,
Like how wind would fill a room.
Then his feet will throd upon me.
Oh what a heavenly boon!

I wasn't only Krishna's servant,
Not only his home.
Nor a village send,
My Prabhu used to love me.
He considered me his friend.

It was fun.

Seeing the villagers contented,
All living peaceful lives.
Seeing lord Krishna living in a bhavan,
With his eight wives.

He protected his people.
He protected dharma too.
He told the sacred Geeta.
As Arjuna sees him as Guru.

Oh my Madhav.
You always melt hearts.
Hearts of many people, near and far.
You have also caused this heart to melt.
The heart of city Dwarka.

Once the games of destiny,
Had rolled the dice on me!
Now I shall tell you,
The curse of Gandhari.

Gandhari cursed my Shree Krishn,
That soon he will loose me.
Later I slipped from mother Earth,
And then I was covered by the sea.

Gandhari's sorrowful curse,
Had taken my precious lord from me.

What game of destiny is this.
The fall of DwarkaPuri.

Sadly I'm hidden from the world.
Hari bhakto would have loved to see.
Yet they lived to tell my tale.
The tale of DwarkaPuri.

JyeshthaMalviya
Me_Raghavi
RADHEKRISHNRK
shivalour
Krishnavii

PS. It have been so long writing a poem....