Translations from Bengali
(Vaishnava Devotional Poetry - Bidyapati)
By Sri Aurobindo
Twenty-two Poems
of Bidyapati
1
Childhood and youth each other are nearing;
Her two eyes their office yield to the hearing.
Her speech has learned sweet maiden craft
And low not as of old she laughed
Her laughter murmurs. A moon on earth
Is dawning into perfect birth.
Mirror in hand she apparels her now
And asks of her sweet girl-comrades to show
What love is and what love does
And all shamed delight that sweet love owes.
And often she sits by herself and sees
Smiling with bliss her breasts’ increase,
Her own milk-breasts that, plums at first,
Now into golden oranges burst.
Day by day Love’s vernal dreams
Expand her lovely blossoming limbs.
Maadhuv, I saw a marvellous flower
Of girls; childhood and youth one power,
One presence grown in one body fair.
Foolish maiden, not thus declare
The oneness of these contraries.
Rather the two were yoked, say the wise.
2
Day by day her milk-breasts drew splendour,
Wider her hips grew, her middle more slender.
Love has enlarged her childlike gaze.
Yea, all grace of childhood and childhood’s ways
Fall from their thrones and take sweet flight.
Her breasts before were plums of light,
Golden oranges next and then
As bodiless Love made bloom with pain
Of increase her body day by day,
Pomegranate seedcities were they.
Their fair maturities now begin,
Now are they fruits-of-opulence twin.
Maadhuv, I sought thy lovely lady,
Bathing I found her in woodland shady.
Coiled on her heart but not to drape
Her thin dress clung to her lovely shape.
Blest were his eyes who had seen her thus
And his whole life made felicitous.
Over her bosom her great hair floods
With curls divine two golden gods.
True love must his be, O youth, who would play,
Her darling and joy, with this beautiful may.
3
Now and again a sidelong look
Along her lashes its shy curve took.
Now and again her thin white dress
O’erlies like dust all her loveliness.
Now she laughs divine and clear
And her pearly teeth like stars appear,
And now to hide in her robe make shift.
For a little her startled feet run swift
But soon that bounding gait subsides
And she in maiden gravity glides.
Love’s scholar she and newly set
To his first lesson and alphabet.
Where her bosom’s buds are hardly seen
Now she draws fast her robe to screen,
Now careless leaves. In her limbs divine
Child and woman meet and twine.
Nor mark I yet whether older she
Of girlhood or younger of infancy.
Beautiful Krishna, youth in her
Its childhood begins, these signs declare.
4
Childhood and youth, maiden, are met
And strife twixt their arm`ed powers is set.
Now her ordered locks she dresses,
Now scattering loosens a storm of tresses.
Sometimes she covers her body fair,
Sometimes the golden limbs are bare
In childhood’s naked innocence.
And childhood’s steadfast eyes with a sense
Of girlhood a little waver now
And her bosom is stained where the flowers grow.
Her light uncertain feet now tell
The uncertain heart and variable.
Love is awake but his eyes are shut.
O Krishna, flower of lovers, put
In thy heart patience, for surely she
Shall be brought at last and given to thee.
5
Playing she plays not, so newly shy
She may not brook the passing eye.
Looking she looks not lest surmise
Laugh from her own girl-comrades’ eyes.
Hearken, O hearken, Maadhuv, to me.
Just is the case I bring to thee.
Radha today these eyes beheld;
A maid she is unparalleled.
O her face and its lovely lights!
O looks that ravish, O charm that invites!
Flower of ruby with lotus grows
In her vermeil lips that exceed the rose;
And with honey have snared her large twin eyes
Two shapes of bees that may not rise;
And her brow’s arch is as tho’ left slack
Love’s own bow in hue were black.
Saith the envoy girl whose words I teach
“The bloom of her limbs surpasseth speech.”
6
In elders’ eyes she brooks not stay,
Half-clad no more her body but alway
She covers her most maidenly.
Yet with young girls when bideth she
Knowing her ripened child and budding may
They plague her with sweet mockery.
Maadhuv, for thee I wooed the sight
Of this fair flower; whom some delight
Child to call, but most agree
That woman’s morning bloom has she.
When of Love’s rites she hears and lovers’ play
She turns her downcast eyes another way,
O but her ears drink greedily.
Should with more words one tease her shame,
With tears and angry smiles she utters blame.
Who is wise in love alone knoweth
The ways of a girl, the poet saith.
7
A little and a little now
See the bright bud half-open blow.
Her swift and wilful feet grown wise
Yield their rudderless gait to the eyes.
Ever her hand to her bosom’s dress
Clings to control its waywardness.
Afraid to utter her shy, hushed thought
Her comrade-girls she questions not.
Maadhuv, how shall faltering word
Her sweet and twilight age record?
Love, even Love, beholding her
In his own bonds her captive were.
Nay but the lord of all desire
Her heart’s precincts raising higher
Has set for passion’s sacred duty
Altars of surpassing beauty.
Love’s speech her listening heart doth stop
As the hunter’s song the antelope.
Two powers dispute this beauteous prize.
Nought one deems gained while aught there is
To gain, nor the other failure owns
While yet he holds to his golden thrones.
Still with sweet violence she clings
To her loved childhood’s parting wings.
8
Childhood is fled and youth in its seat;
Not light as of old her wandering feet,
Yet are Love’s glorious envoys two
Seeing her eyes her errands do.
In secret dawns each lovely smile
And laughter low with maiden guile.
Her hand each moment plucks her dress
Its fluttering treasons to repress.
And all the low speech of her lips
From a modest head and drooping slips.
Her heavy hips have now replaced
The old lost pride of her rounded waist.
Thus I decide her doubtful state,
Conclusion sweet of sweet debate.
Thine is this fair decision’s fruit
Judgment to give and execute.
I, Bidyapati, love’s lights bring
To lady Lochima and the King.
9
As the swan sails, so moved she
Then when her face was lost to me.
As she went, O she turned, she looked, she smiled.
Ah arrows made of Love’s own flower,
O sweet magician! faery power!
No mortal maid but an enchantress wild.
Her arms, those sweet twin lovelinesses,
Clasped, bent in languorous self-caresses,
Enhaloed had the lustres of her face.
Her fingers slim for champaks taking,
Love to delicious worship waking
A moon of autumn with such flowers did bless.
Her careless breasts, (O happy lover!)
Their rich defence but half did cover
Because of haste when the light robe was worn.
As tho’ by winds that overpower
Clouds in the season of storm and shower,
The hills of heaven thro’ a dim veil made morn.
Vision delightful! shall again
I ease with you my life’s deep pain?
Ah! shall again division’s boundaries break?
The henna that her feet enros`ed
Was fire wherein my heart enclos`ed
Did burn and all my limbs to burn did make.
O lovely maiden, hear the speech
These numbers murmur each to each.
My soul since then no ease, no quiet knows.
Ah! shall I ever, fortune, meet her,
The woman than all women sweeter,
The jewel of all beauties that earth owes?
10
I have seen a girl no words can measure,
On golden tendrils proudly borne a face,
A spotless moon, a snowy treasure.
Her eyes two lotuses with unguent shaded,
Were play-grounds of sweet loving thought,
Or fluttering, captive birds in a net embedded
Of that dark unguent solely wrought.
Her heavy hills of milk a necklace richer
Of elephant pearls did touch and gleam—
Love sprinkling from her throat, that brimful pitcher,
On golden images heaven’s stream.
Fortunate were he who by Proyaga’s waters
Long sacrificing might avail
At last to win her. Lover of Gocool’s daughters!
Darling of Gocool! true thy tale.
11
When the hour of twilight its period kept
The damsel out from her dwelling stepped.
Like flashes in a new-born cloud that battling crept,
Golden, a beauty dire.
A highborn maiden, a little child,
Woven of flowers and fragrance she smiled.
How with a little sight should hope be reconciled?
Love but increased his fire.
Her small sweet body of pale gold made
That shining gold thro’ her robe displayed,
The forest lion yields to her slender middle; swayed
Glances much love must earn.
A soft smile burned on her lips and she
With a smile and a look did murder me.
Lord of the five Bengals, may longer life with thee
Starlike eternal burn.
12
A shining grace the damsel’s face to her laughter and speech
doth lend,
As tho’ the sweet full moon of autumn heaven’s nectar rained.
A jewel of women with beauty more than human,
I saw her gait of lion state ungrac`ed nought nor common.
Her middle than the lion’s slender is,
Her body soft as lotuses;
It seemed a branch with weight breaking of her breasts
pomegranate.
Yea and her lovely eyes being with blackness dressed
Were unstained lotuses enamoured bees invest.
The lover beautiful seeing sweet Radha’s grace
Breaketh his longing heart with passionate distress.
13
The moonwhite maiden from her bath
Passing I saw from a woodland path.
From all sweet things she stolen had
Beauty in one fair girl arrayed.
Her tresses that her small hands wrung
A shower of faery water flung
As tho’ a fan of beauty whirled
Carcanets with gems impearled.
Her wet curls wearing wondrous grace
Like bees besieged her lotus face
For all that honey wild with lust.
The water from her sweet eyes thrust
Yet left them reddened, as in the ooze
Petals of lotus with ceruse.
Heavy with water her thin robe
Defined each bright and milky globe;
Like golden apples gleamed her breasts
On which the happy hoarfrost rests.
So the robe clung as if it said
“Soon will she leave me and love be dead,
Nor ever once shall I attain
Such exquisite delight again.”
So the robe thought, as well appears,
And therefore sorrowed, showering tears.
14
Beauty stood bathing in the river
When I beheld her—Love’s whole quiver
Pierced my heart with fivefold fire.
Her curls flung back from the face of my desire
Rained great tears as tho’ the night
Stood by and wept in fear of the moon’s light.
To every limb her wet robe kissed and clung.
Had even the sage been there
His heart had burned, even his grown young
Seeing through her dress her marvellous limbs made bare.
Her fair twin breasts were river-birds
Whose language is three amorous words.
It seemed that pitying heaven had to one shore
Brought the sweet lovers thence to part no more.
Yet she I deem in such alarm
Held them fast bound within one golden arm,
As if some noise should startle the sweet pair
And they take flight from her.
O amorous boy, be not afraid—
For youth like thine heaven gave this wondrous maid.
15
O happy day that to mine eyes betrayed
Bathing the beautiful maid!
Drops like a carcanet of pearls
Fell from her cloud of showering curls.
Her lifted hands did harshly press
The lingering water from her face
That wore new luminousness
As tho’ a golden mirror were made clean.
Therewith her robe fell to her lovely feet
And naked breasts revealed their beauties twin,
Like golden cups that seemed reversely set.
The lapse her robe’s one bond undid
And naked made what yet lay hid.
OMithil lyre,
This is the apex of desire.
16
Beautiful Rai, the flower-like maid
Risen from the river where she played
Saw under down-cast lids and shy
The lovely boy, dark Krishna named.
A highborn child with face afraid
Before her elders and eyes ashamed
She might not gaze as she went by.
O subtle is that beautiful girl!
She left the gracious troop behind;
With half-turned face and half-declined
From far in front full sweet her call.
She broke her carcanet of pearl
And let the precious seedlings fall.
“O friends, my broken carcanet.”
Each girl her lovely hand did set
Stooping to find the scattered grain.
Meanwhile the damsel’s eyes full fain,
Like birds that on white moonbeams feed,
Of Krishna’s shape took amorous heed.
Divine the nectar that she drained,
O Krishna, from thy cheeks of light.
Yea, each of each had honied sight.
Thus gazing girl and boy extend
Love’s boundaries seen by none but me
The poet, sweet Bidyapati.
17
Ah how shall I her lovely body express?
Fair things how many Nature in her blended,
Mine own eyes saw ere my lips praise.
Her twin fair feet were lordly leaves of summer,
Her gait vied with the forest’s best.
Upon two golden trees a lion slender,
Thereover the hills of heaven placed.
And on the hills two lotuses were budding
That stemless kept their gracious hours.
In shape of pearl-drops strung heaven’s stream descended,
Therefore not withered those sweet flowers.
Her teeth pomegranate-seeds on lips of ruby,
The sun and moon on either side,
Her hair eclipse, but coming never nearer
Hid not at all their golden pride.
The cuckoo’s speech, the antelope’s eyes has Radha,
And Love has in her glances thrones—
Upon two lotuses two bees that hover
And sip their honey: these she owns
The spring’s five children. O delicious maiden,
Not the wide worlds her second know,
To Sheva Singha Ruupnaraian my music
And lady Lochima doth show.
18
When the young warm Love her heart doth fill
Where is the let stays woman’s will?
Alone to set forth lightly she dares,
Path or pathless not Radha who cares.
She has left her pearl`ed carcanet
Her breast’s high towers that hamper`ed.
The bracelets fair on her wrists that shone
All by the path has the young girl thrown.
Anklets gemmed on her feet did glow,
She has thrown them far the lighter to go.
The gloom is thick and heavy the night,
But Love to her eyes makes darkness light.
Her every step new perils doth prove,
She has pierced thro’ all with the sword of Love.
Her passionate heart the poet knows.
Another like her not the wide world shows.
19
“’Tis night and very timid my little love.
How long ere I see her hither swanlike move!
Dread serpents fill with fear the way;
What perils those soft beloved feet waylay.
Providence, I lay her at thy feet;
Scatheless keep she the tryst, my own, my sweet.
The sky is thick and mired the earth,
Perils wide-strewn: ah me, what fears have birth.
Thick darkness are the quarters ten.
The feet stumble, nought clear the eyes may gain.
She comes! With timid backward glances
Every creature’s heart how she entrances!
A girl she is of human grace,
Yet wears all heaven stolen in her face.”
For high-born women to be o’erborne
By love endure; all other check they scorn.
20
The best of the year has come, the Spring,
Of the six seasons one season king;
And now with all his tribes the bee
Runs to the creeper spring-honey.
The sun’s rays come of boyish age,
The day-describing sun, his page,
A sceptre of gold the saffron-bloom
And the young leaves a crowning-room.
Gold-flowers of champak o’er him stand,
The umbrellaed symbol of command;
The cary-buds a crown do set
And before him sings a court-poet,
The Indian cuckoo to whom is given
The sweetest note of all the seven.
Peacocks dance and for instrument
Murmur of bees, while sacrament
Of blessing and all priestly words
Brahmins recite, the twice-born birds.
Pollen, the flying dust of flowers,
His canopy above him towers,
His favourite the southern breeze,
Jasmine of youth and Tuscan-trees
His battle-flag. The season of dew,
Seeing sweet blossoms-of-bliss renew,
Seven-leaf and boughs that fragrance loves
And kingshook and the climbing cloves,
Seven things of bloom together, flees
Nor waits the perfumed shock of these.
Spring’s army too the chill estate
Of the dew-season annihilate—
Invading honey-bees—and make
Secure the lilies of the lake.
And these being saved yield them a home
In their own soft, new-petalled bloom.
In Brindabun anew is mirth
For the restor`ed bloom of earth.
These are the season’s sweets and these
The essence of the Spring’s increase.
21
In the spring moonlight the lord of love
Thro’ the amorous revel’s maze doth move;
The crown of love love’s raptures proves,
For Radha his amorous darling moves,
Radha, the ruby of ravishing girls
With him bathed in love’s moonlight whirls.
And all the merry maidens with rapture
Dancing together the light winds capture,
And the bracelets speak with a ravishing cry,
And the murmur of waist-bells rises high—
Meanwhile rapture-waking string
Ripest of strains the sonata of Spring,
That lover and lord of love-languid notes
With tired delight in throbbing throats.
And rumours of violin and bow
And the mighty Queen’s-harp mingle and flow,
And Radha’s ravisher makes sweet measure
With the flute, that musical voice of pleasure.
Bidyapati’s genius richly wove
For King Ruupnaraian this rhythm of love.
22
Hark how round goes the instruments’ sound!
With the sweet love wild
Of Gocool’s child
She danceth mistress of the fair arts sixty-four.
And her hands rhyme keeping time,
Her smitten hands that still the fall restore.
And the tabors keep melody deep
And the heavy thrum
Of the measured drum
And anklets’ running cry their own slim music loving.
The waist bells sprinkle their silver tinkle
And bracelets gold that gems do hold;
Loud is the instruments’ din to madness moving.
And harps begin and the violin
And the five vessels
Where melody swells
Thro’ all the gamut move and various moods express.
And over and under the twydrum’s thunder,
With whose noise the vessels five mix and embrace.
From loosened tresses that toil undresses
And floating whirls
On the shoulders of girls
The jasmine garlands’ buds sprinkle the vernal night.
Ah revels of Spring! with powerless wing
These verses grieve not reaching your delight.
Selected Poems of Bidyapati
1
Wherever her twin fair feet found room
There the flowers of the water bloom;
Wherever her golden body shone,
There have the waves of lightning gone.
Wonderful beauty, golden-sweet,
How in my heart hast thou set thy feet!
Wherever her eyes have opened bright,
The bloom of the lotus burns its light;
Wherever her musical laugh has flown
Need of the nectar is not known;
Wherever her shy curved glances rove,
There are ten thousand arrows of love;
Eyes, for a little your orbs did see!
In the three worlds now there is none but she.
O shall I see her ever again
To ease my heart of its piteous pain?
O on my bosom once to hold
Her boundless beauty and manifold.
2
Why fell her face upon my sight,
That is a lovelier moon in light,
Since but for one poor moment she
With her sweet eyes emparadised me?
Surely it was to slay my soul
That under her long lashes stole
The cruel grace of that transient look.
Desire laid hands upon her breasts
And there my poor heart clinging rests:
Love new-born its office took.
My ears yet wait upon her words;
Her murmurs dwell like cag`ed birds.
I strive to part; my feet refuse.
The net of sweet desires is loose,
Yet thence my body will not move,
Faint with the sudden hands of Love.
3
Sweet and strange as ’t were a dream,
I have seen a vision gleam.
Lotus-flowers were his feet
Bearing moons a carcanet.
Rounded thighs and ankles smooth
Towered of the glorious youth,
And continual lightnings drape,
So I dreamed, that faultless shape.
Dark Calindie, by thy stream
Slowly went he in my dream.
And I dreamed of boughs that shone
With a row of moons thereon,
Fingers fair like young leaves born
With a rosy light of morn.
Flower-of-coral bloom his lips,
Over which Love’s parrot peeps,
And his eyes like wild birds wake
And each curl’s a little snake
Stung me. Twice I looked and then
With a sweet and sudden pain
Maddened. Ah, what Power is this
For a look can slay with bliss?
Even so leaps, O my dove,
Into the heart made for him, Love.
4
Ah who has built this girl of nectarous face?
Ah who this matchless beauteous dove?
An omen and a bounteous boon of love,
A garland of triumphant grace.
O glorious countenance and O shaded deep
Delicious eyes for purple extolled,
You dark-winged flutterers in that lily of gold
The splendour of the snake who keep!
Thy tendrilled down’s a snake, to drink cool winds
That from thy harbouring navel stirred
But by the fancied bill of emperor-bird
Cowed to thy breast’s hill-cavern winds.
The strong five-missiled Love with arrows three
The three worlds conquered; two remained
Which to thine eyes some cruel Fate did lend
To slay poor lovers’ hearts with thee.
5
I saw not to the heart’s desire.
Beautiful friend, that sight was fire
Of lightning and like lightning went:
My heart with the bright bolt was rent.
Her dim white robe like hoar-frost thin
Half from the shoulder had fallen in.
Her beautiful mouth half-smiled and half
A glance from under her lids did laugh.
Half-naked shone her breasts’ sweet globes,
And half lay shadowy in her robes.
O then this bitter love and new!
Her body was of honey hue.
Her breasts, those cups of wondrous gold,
Love like a bodice did enfold;
The bodiless Love with subtle plan
To seize and hold the heart of man
With flowery cords his beauteous net
In the guise of a girl’s breasts had set.
Her teeth, a row of pearls, did meet
Her moving lips and sweet, O sweet
As liquid honey her delicate speech.
Within me burned a pain like fire!
Mine eyes dwelt with her, yet could not reach,
Gazing, the bottom of desire.
6
Caanou to see I had desire,
Caanou seen, my life grew fire.
Thenceforth deep down, ah, foolish I,
In a great sea of love I lie.
Hardly I know, a girl and weak,
What these words mean my heart would speak.
Only my tears for ever rain,
Only my soul burns in its pain.
Ah wherefore, friend, did mine eyes see,
Friend of my bosom, thoughtlessly?
When a little mirth was all I planned,
I have given my life into another’s hand.
I know not what this lovely thief
Did to me in that moment brief.
Surely such craft none yet possessed!
He robbed my heart out of its nest
Only with seeing, and gone is he
Taking my poor heart far from me.
And ah! his eyes did then express
Such tenderness, such tenderness,
The more I labour to forget
My very soul remembers it.
Mourn not, sweet girl, for thy heart’s sake;
Who took thy heart, thyself at last shall take.
7
Lotus bosom, lotus feet,
Justify, I charge thee, sweet!
Knowing the true love thou hast won
Wilt thou not love back, lovely one?
Love in true hearts gold surpasses.
To the fire golden masses
Double price and beauty owe.
Loves by trial greater grow.
Love, my sweet, ’s a wondrous thing
Imperishable in suffering.
Break it, but it will not break.
Love, like fibres of the lake,
Thrives on torture; beaten, grows;
Bleeding, thrills to sweeter rose.
Not from every elephant
Pearldrops ooze iridescent,
Not from all lips accents fall
Melodious as the cuckoo’s call.
Every season is not Spring,
Every man love’s perfect king,
Nor all women the world through
Always lovely, always true.
This is love, as sweet as rare;
Wilt thou spurn it, vainly fair?
8
How shall I tell of Caanou’s beauty bright?
Men will believe it a vision of the night.
As lightning was his saffron garment blown
Over the beautiful cloud-limbs half-shown.
His coal-black curls assumed with regal grace
A peacock’s plume above that moonlike face.
And such a fragrance fierce the mad wind wafts
Love wakes and trembles for his flowery shafts.
Yea, what shall words do, friend? Love’s whole estate
Exhausted was that wonder to create.
9
Low on her radiant forehead shone
A star of the bright vermilion.
O marvellous face! O shining maid!
Moonlight and sunlight drawn together
Met in a heaven of golden weather,
While the mass`ed midnight hung afraid
Behind in her burden of great dark hair.
O woman of moonlight rarer than Nature’s!
O delicate body! O wonderful features!
Whence did Fate build you with effort made fair?
The buds of her flowerlike breasts between
Her robe’s white folds were a little seen.
The snows may cover the high bright hill,
Hidden it is not, strive as you will.
From her darkened eyes her shy look roving
On lids love-troubled tenderly burned
Like the purple lilies winds were moving
By the weight of a bee overturned.
Hearken, O girl, to Bidyapati
And the lyre made sweet in the year’s sweet end.
To Lochima, lady of Mithila city,
And Sheva Singha the King, his friend.
10
The man`ed steeds in the mountain glens for fear
Of these thy locks, O maiden, hide.
The moon at thy face from the high heaven doth peer
And thy voice alarms the cuckoo’s pride.
Thy gait has driven the swan to the forest-mere
And the wild-deer flee thy large eyes’ light.
Ah beautiful girl, why mute then to my love?
Lo, fear of thee all these to flight doth move;
Whom dost thou fear then, maiden bright?
The lotus-buds in the water closed reside
Thy paps being lovelier and the flame
Absorbs the pitcher and in air abide
The pomegranate and quince at thy breasts’ sweet
name.
Yea, Sheve doth swallow poison and in ooze
The golden lotus-stalk, lo, shuns
Thine arm and the new leaves shake these hands to see.
But ah! my weary lips refuse,
O’erstrained with honey-sweet comparisons,
All images to tell love taught to me.
11
Hide now thy face, O darling white,
Hide it well with thy robe’s delight;
For the king has heard that one the moon
Has stolen and his sentinels soon
At each house stationed and each again,
Damsel beloved, will thee detain.
Laugh not thy lightning, O nectarous face!
Low and few from their sweet home press
The accents of that lyric voice.
Thy teeth make starlight, maiden choice!
And on the brow of the highborn girl
A vermeil drop and a shimmering pearl.
Hearken good counsel, beautiful maid;
Even in a dream be not afraid,
Spots has the moon, no beauty clear,
Stain`ed is she, thou stainless, dear.
12
She looked on me a little, then
A little smile her lips o’erran
As though a moonbeam making bright
The darkness of the blessed night;
And from her eyes a lustrous glance
Fell shy and tenderly askance,
As though blue heaven’s infinities
Were grown a sudden swarm of bees.
I know not whose she is, being fair:
I know she has my soul with her.
With a sweet fear as to deny
Her virgin soul to the honey-fly
That in the lotus’ womb did play,
With startled feet and hurried look
The beauteous damsel went her way,
But with the hasty motion shook
The robe from her warm breasts of gold
Like lotus-flowers the heart to hold.
Half-hid, yet naked half, they seemed
To speak aloud the bliss they dreamed.
O sweet, O young desire! the dart
Of secret love leaves out no heart.
13
Upon a thorn when the flowers bloom,
Poor bee athirst for the rich perfume,
Cruel thy thirst, yet thou mayst not drink.
Upon the jasmine’s honied brink
Lo the bee hovers and will have
Heart’s pleasure nor cares his life to save.
O Radha, flower of honey, have pity
And grant thy lover’s sad entreaty,
Pilgrim of honey thy lover, nor more
In maiden pride thy nectarous store
Deny. Alas! in thy rich bloom
The thirsty bee finds never a room.
O jasmine, save thy honey breast
He has forsworn all other rest.
On thee the sin, beautiful Rai,
Of the poor bee’s death will surely lie.
O from thy lips the sweet boon give
Of heaven’s honey and he will live.
14
A new Brindabun I see
And renewed each barren tree,
New flowers are blooming.
And another Spring is; new
Southern breezes chase the dew
With new bees roaming
And the sweet boy of Gocool strays
In new and freshly-blossoming ways.
The groves upon Calindie’s shore
With his tender beauty bloom
Whose fresh-disturb`ed heart brims o’er
With wild new-born loves o’ercome.
And the new, sweet cary-buds
Are wild with honey in the woods;
New birds are singing:
And the young girls wild with love
Run delighted to the grove,
New hearts bringing.
For young the heir of Gocool is
And young his passionate mistresses.
Meetings new and fresh love-rites,
Lights of ever-fresh desire,
Sports ever-new and new delights
Set Bidyapati’s heart on fire.
15
Season of honey when sweets combine,
Honey-bees line upon line,
From sweet blossoms honied feet,
Honied blossoms and honey sweet.
O sweet is Brindabun today
And sweeter than these our Lord of May,
His maiden-train the sweets of earth,
Honey-girls with laughter and mirth,
Sports of love and dear delight
When instruments honey-sweet unite
Their sounds soul-moving, and sweet, O sweet
The smitten hands and the pacing feet.
Sweet the swaying dancer whirls,
Honied the movement of dancing girls,
And sweet as honey the love-song rings—
Sweet Bidyapati honey sings.
16
O friend, my friend, has pain a farther bound
Which sounds can utter, for which words are found?
Fiercely the flute’s breath through me ran and thrilled,
My body with sweet dreadful sound was filled.
By violence that brooks not of control
The cruel music enters all my soul.
Then every limb enamoured swoons with shame
And every thought is wrapped in utter flame.
Yea, all my labouring body mightily
Was filled and panted with sweet agony.
I dared not lift my eyes. My elders spoke
Around me when that wave of passion broke,
And such a languor through my being crept,
My very robe no more its office kept.
With slow feet on their careful steps intent
Panting into the inner house I went.
Even yet I tremble from the peril past,
So fierce a charm the flute upon me cast.
17
Still in the highways wake nor dream
The citizens and with beam on beam
Moonlight clings to the universe.
New is her love, not to coerce
Nor lull, and yet with tremors she
The luminous wakeful night doth see.
What shifts will love on maids impose!
In a boy’s dress to the tryst she goes.
She has loosened showering her ordered hair
New-fastened in a crest to wear;
The cloth of her body she doth treasure
About her in another measure
And since her bounteous breasts disdain
The robe’s light government, she has ta’en
Over her heart an instrument.
In such guise to the grove she went
And in such guise met in the grove:
Her when he saw, the flower of love
Knew not though seen his darling bright,—
He doubted in his heart’s despite.
Only when those dear limbs he touches
Her sweet identity he vouches.
What then befell? Sweet Love the rather
How many mirthful things did father!
18
O life is sweet but youth more bright.
O life, it is youth and youth is delight.
And what is youth if it be not this,
Love, true love, and love’s long kiss?
Love that the noble heart conceives
Will leave thee never till life leaves.
Every day the moons increase,
Every day love greater is.
Of all girl-lovers thou art crown,
Caanou of youth the sole renown.
When hardest holiest deeds accrue,
Meet in this world two lovers true.
Stolen love, how sweet it is!
Two brief words its only keys;
Murmur but these and thou shalt hold
Secret delights a thousandfold.
So true a lover all wide earth
To another such gave never birth,
And Braja’s hearts with love are wild
Of the noble gracious child.
Haste to thy king, sweet, pay him duty
Of thy loving heart and beauty.
19
Angry beauty, be not loth!
I will swear a holy oath.
On thy garland’s serpent fold,
On thy sacred breasts of gold
Here I lay my yearning hand.
If I leave thee, if I touch
Other lady of delight,
Let this snake my bosom bite.
If thou deem my error such,
Be thy malice on me spent
In many an amorous punishment.
Bind my body with thine arms,
Scourge my limbs with pretty harms,
Press my panting heart with weight
Of thy sweet breasts passionate,
In thy labouring bosom deep
Night and day thy prisoner keep.
Punishments like these demand
Love’s sweet sins from love’s sweet hand.
