Tell me truly, my dark beloved,
To which lovely girl were you making love?
O my wild beloved, disheveled are your clothes and eyes are weary with sleep!
Tell me truly, my dark beloved,
To which lovely girl were you making love?

Bedecked brilliantly like the constellations sparkling in the sky,
My matchless one, why come to me when you sleep with someone else?
Tell me truly, my dark beloved,
To which lovely girl were you making love?

Useless it is to argue with the lustful, says Radha,
O Narsaiyya's lord, what is your game behind all this?
Tell me truly, my dark beloved,
To which lovely girl were you making love?