I hear them in my deepest soul

Listen, the flute has sounded in yonder wood.
There, I must fly, for Krishna waits on the path.
Tell me friends, will you come along or no?
To you my Krishna is just but an empty name;
To me He is the anguish of my heart.
You hear His flute notes with only your ears,
But, oh, I hear them in my deepest soul.
I hear His flute calling: “Radha come out!”
Without you the grove is shorn of its loveliness.