1
A certain yakṣa unmindful of his appointed duties
and cursed by his lord to endure
a year’s grievous separation from his beloved
dwelt exiled, his lustre dimmed, on Rāma’s hill
in hermitages thick with shade-trees and waters
hallowed by the touch of Janaka’s daughter.
2
The impassioned lover having passed some months
on that hill, parted from her unsupported
—the golden armlet slipping down
to lay bare his wasted fore-arm—
saw on Āṣāḍha’s most auspicious day
a cloud embracing the crest of the hill,
strikingly-shaped1 like a sportive elephant
bent down to butt a river bank.
3
Gazing on that which stirs the ketaka to bloom
the vassal lord of the King of Kings
brooded long,
with effort restraining his tears.
The sight of rain clouds makes even happy hearts
stir with restlessness;
what then of one far from her who longs
to hold him in close embrace.
4
With the month of rains approaching,
desiring to sustain his beloved’s life,2
hoping to send glad tidings of his wellbeing
through the life-giving cloud, he made with reverence
an offering of fresh blossoms of wild jasmine,
prefacing it with words of affection
and joyously welcomed the cloud.
5
Blended of mists and light, winds and water
can a mere cloud bear messages
that only the living with keen senses
and intelligence can convey?
Unmindful of this the yakṣa entreated it,
overwhelmed by unreasoning eagerness;
indeed, the love-sick, their minds clouded,
confuse the sentient with the insentient.
6
Born in the lofty lineage of swirling diluvial clouds,
I know you are the god of thunder’s minister
assuming what shape you will; so, banished
from wife and kinsmen by divine decree, I entreat you;
for it is nobler to address barren pleas
to the virtuous than fruitful to the vile.
7
You are the refuge, O Rain-Giver
for all who burn with anguish;3 so bear
a message from me parted from my love
by the wrath of the Lord of Treasures;
go then to Alakā, abode of the Yakṣa Lord,
her palaces washed by moonlight
streaming from Śiva’s brow
where He is seated in her outer groves.
8
Women whose husbands travel to far lands,
pushing back their straggling hair
will eagerly look up to see you
riding high on the path of the wind,
and draw comfort; for when you arrive
all clad and girt for action,
who can ignore his lonely wife distraught
unless subject like me to an alien will?
9
While a friendly breeze impels you gently
as you loiter along, and here on your left
the cātaka in its pride4 sings sweetly,
hen-cranes will know the time ripe for mating
and rejoice when they note in the sky
your eye-delighting presence; rest assured
they will attend on you in patterned flight.
10
Arriving there unimpeded you are certain
to see that constant lady,
your brother’s wife still living
engrossed only in counting the days;
Hope’s slender thread serves to hold
the flower-hearts of women
tender and prone to droop too soon
under the burden of separation.
11
And, hearing your thunder—a sound sweet to their ears—
that can make Earth unfurl her mushroom parasols,
regal swans longing for Mānasa-lake,
gathering tender lotus-shoots for the way
will be your companions in the sky
even up to Mount Kailāsa’s peak.
12
Embrace and bid farewell to your loving friend,
this lofty mountain girdled5 by slopes marked
by the holy feet of the Lord of Raghus
adored by the world.
Time and again, reuniting with you,
it displays its affection, breathing out
burning sighs born of long separation.6
13
Listen first, while I describe the way
fitting for your journey which you will follow
resting your foot on mountains when weary,
refreshed when wasted by the clear water of streams:
then you shall hear my message, O Rain-Giver,
drinking it in eagerly with your ears.
14
While simple Siddha maidens with upturned faces,
watching your impetuous power tremble in alarm
and cry: ‘Is the wind carrying off the mountain’s peak?’
soar high up into the sky facing north,
far above this thicket of sap-filled nicula,
shunning on your path the proud sweep of the heavy trunks
of the elephants that guard the sky’s quarters.
15
Here to the east, a fragment of Indra’s bow
springs spectacular from the hill top, gleaming
as if blended of the lustres of brilliant gems.
Shot through by its sheen, your dark-blue body
shines resplendent like Viṣṇu’s in his cowherd guise,
lit up by irridescent peacock-plumes.
16
While rustic women unversed in eyebrow play
drink you in with eyes moist with happiness
knowing the harvest to depend on you,
ascend the upland plains fragrant from fresh furrowing;
then veering slightly to the west, speed on
keeping ever to the north.
17
As you approach the noble mountain Citrakūta,
he will greet you, O travel-weary Rain-Giver,
and bear you on his head held high: you too
with sharp showers will quench summer’s cruel fires.
The tenderness of true feeling in the great
bears fruit in no time, returning kindness for kindness.
18
With his forest fires fully quenched by your sharp showers,
Āmrakūta will bear you gratefully
on his crown, travel-weary as you are;
even the meanest remembering former favours
will not turn his face away from a friend
who seeks shelter; what then of one so lofty!
19
Its slopes all aglow with the ripened fruit
of wild mangoes, and you on its peak set
like a coil of dark glossy hair, the mountain
—seeming Earth’s breast—dark-blue centre
encircled by pale-gold expansive curves—
will appear entrancing to celestial lovers.
20
Resting awhile on that mountain
in whose bowers the brides of foresters sport,
and lightened by your waters’ outpouring
you’ll speedily cross the road beyond
and see Revā’s streams spreading dishevelled
at Vindhya’s uneven rocky foothills,
inlaying them like ashen streaks
decorating an elephant’s body.
21
Your rain disgorged, draw up that river’s water
whose flow impeded by rose-apple brakes
is pungent with the scent of wild elephants in rut,
and journey on; gaining inner strength
the wind cannot make light of you, O Rain-Cloud;
for hollowness makes things light; fullness bestows weight.
22
Seeing the green-gold Nīpa flowers
with their stamens half-emerging
and the Kandal is showing their early buds
along the edge of every pool,
savouring the rich fragrance of the earth
in the forests burnt by fire,
antelopes will chart your path as you pass
shedding fresh rain drops.
23
Siddhas watching cātakas
skilled catching falling rain drops,
and pointing out to egrets in flight,
counting them on their fingers,
will pay you their grateful respect,
suddenly obtaining a flurry of unexpected embraces
from their beloved wives clinging to them in alarm
trembling at the sound of your thunder.
24
Even though you would wish to proceed with speed
for the sake of my happiness, my friend,
I foresee delay while you loiter
on peak after peak fragrant with wild jasmine;
though peacocks, their eyes moist with joy may greet you
with welcoming cries, I pray you, try to hasten onward.
25
The Daśārṇas will put on a new beauty
at your approach:
woodlands ringed round by ketakas
with needle-pointed buds newly-opened
will glow a pale gold:
birds starting to nest will throng
the sacred peepuls in the village squares:
rose-apple groves will darken
with the sheen of ripening blue-black fruit
and wild geese settle for a few days.
26
When you reach that royal city, Vidiśā by name
widely renowned, you shall at once obtain
the unalloyed fulfilment of a lover’s desire,
tasting Vetravatī’s sweet waters as a lover his beloved’s lips,
with sonorous thunder passing along her banks
as she flows with knitted brows of tremulous wavelets.
27
There you shall alight seeking rest on Nīcai hill
thrilling with delight at your touch
as Kadambās burst into sudden bloom;
the hill loudly proclaims through grottoes
exhaling fragrances of pleasure,
passions unrestrained of the city’s youth
dallying there in love-sports with courtesans.
28
Having rested, go on, sprinkling with fresh rain drops
clusters of jasmine-buds in gardens by woodland streams,
enjoying a fleeting together-ness
as your gift of shade touches
the faces of flower-gathering maidens, who
each time they wipe the sweat off their cheeks, bruise
the wilting lotuses hung at their ears.
29
As your course points due north to Alakā,
the way to Ujjayinī is a detour no doubt,
but do not therefore turn away from a visit to her palace-terraces.
Indeed you would have lived in vain if you do not dally there
with the tremulous eyes of the city’s beautiful women
that dart in alarm at the branched lightning’s flashes.
30
On your path, when you meet Nirvindhyā
wearing a girdle strung of chiming bells
—a row of water-birds plashing on her undulating waves—
weaving her sinuous course with charming unsteady gait
to reveal eddies forming her navel
—such coy gestures are women’s first statements of love—
be sure to be filled with love’s fine flavour.
31
Crossing that river, O fortunate lover,
yours will be the happy task to induce Sindhu
visibly grieving at your absence,
her waters shrunk to a thin braid and pale
with the paleness of dry leaves
fallen from trees rooted on her banks,
to cast off the sorrow withering her.
32
Reaching Avantī whose village-elders
are well-versed in the Udayana-tales,
go towards that city already spoken of;
to Ujjayinī glowing in splendour
like a brilliant piece of Paradise
come down to earth with traces of merits
of dwellers in Paradise returning,
the fruit of their good deeds almost spent.
33
At day-break in Ujjayinī, Śiprā’s cool breeze
scented with the fragrance of lotuses comes
prolonging the piercing cries of love-maddened sāras-cranes.
Refreshing to the tired limbs of women
after passion’s ecstatic play, it removes
their langour like an artful lover
plying his love with amorous entreaties.
34 & 35
Smoke drifting through lattice-screens
from aromatic gums that perfume women’s hair
enhances your beautiful form;
Palace-peacocks out of fellow-feeling
present you their gift-offering of dance;
worn out with travel, having passed the night
in her flower-fragrant mansions marked with red lac
from the feet of lovely ladies, approach
the holy shrine of Candesvara, Preceptor of the Triple-World,
watched with awe by the Lord’s attendants,
because your hue is the blue of His throat.
Its gardens are stirred by Gandhavatī’s breezes
scented with the pollen of blue-lotuses
and fragrances wafted from unguents
used by young women sporting in her waters.
36
If by chance you reach Mahākāla at a time other than sunset,
stay on till the sun disappears from sight;
by performing the exalted office of the temple-drum
in the evening-rituals offered to the spear-armed Lord
you will enjoy the full fruit, O Rain-Bearer,
of the deep-throated rumblings of your thunder.
37
With jewelled belts tinkling as they move with measured steps,
temple-dancers whose hands tire, gracefully waving
chowries with glittering gem-studded handles,
will taste from the first rain-drops you shed,
pleasure as from a lover’s nail-marks and shower on you
sidelong glances streaming like a line of honey-bees.
38
Then bathed in evening’s glow red as fresh china rose flowers
when the Lord of Beings commences His Cosmic Dance,
encircling, merging into the forest of His uplifted arms,
dispel His desire to wear the blood-moist elephant-hide,
your devotion observed by Bhavānī
with steady eyes, her terror now calmed.
39
Young women going to their lovers’ dwellings at night
set out on the royal highway mantled
in sight-obscuring darkness you could pierce with a pin;
light their path with streaked lightning
glittering like gold-rays on a touchstone,
but do not startle them with thunder and pelting rain
for they are easily alarmed.
40
On the top most terrace of some turreted mansion
where ring-doves sleep,
pass the night with your lightning-wife
much-fatigued by continual play. But pray
resume your journey the moment the sun rises;
surely, those who undertake to help a friend
do not linger over providing that help.
41
Philandering hushands come home at sunrise
called on to comfort their anguished wives
by drying the welling tears of betrayal;
therefore move quickly out of the sun’s path;
he too returns at dawn to the lotus-pool
to dry the dew-tears on her lotus-face;
he would be not a little incensed
that you obstruct his bright ray-fingers.
Your self intrinsically beautiful
even in its shadow-form will enter Gambhīrā’s clear waters
as into a tranquil pool of consciousness;
do not therefore cavalierly dismiss
her welcoming glances—those dazzling upward leaps
of glittering white fishes bright as water-lilies.
43
Her dark-blue waters like a garment
slipping off the sloping bank of her hips,
still cling to the reed-branches
as if lightly held up by one hand;
drawing it away as you bend over her, my friend,
will it not be hard for you to depart?
For who can bear to leave a woman, her loins bared,
once having tasted her body’s sweetness?
44
Fragrant with the scent of the earth freshened by your showers,
a cool wind that ripens the fruit on wild fig-trees
is inhaled with delight by elephants
through their water-spout-trunks;
it will waft you gently to the Lord’s hill
that you seek to approach.
45
Skanda has made that hill his fixed abode;
transform yourself into a flower-cloud
and shower him with blossoms moist with Gangā’s celestial waters;
for he is the blazing energy, sun-surpassing,
that the wearer of the crescent-moon placed
in the Divine Fire’s mouth to protect Indra’s hosts.
46
Then, let your thunder magnified by the echoing mountain
spur the peacock the fire-born god rides, to dance,
its eyes brightened by the radiance of Śiva’s moon;
Bhavānī out of affection for her son
places its fallen plume
gleaming with irridescent circlets on her ear
in place of the lotus-petal she wears.
47
Having thus worshipped
the god born in a thicket of reeds
and travelling some distance
as Siddha-couples bearing lutes
leave your path free, from fear of water-drops,
bend low to honour Rantideva’s glory sprung
from the sacrifice of Surabhi’s daughters
and flowing on earth changed into a river.
48
Stealing the colour of the god who draws the horn-bow
as you bend down to drink its waters,
sky-rangers looking down will indeed see with wonder
that river from the far distance
as a thin line, broad though she is,
as if Earth wore a single strand of pearls
set with a large sapphire at the centre.
49
Crossing that river go onwards making
yourself the target for the eager eyes
of Daśapura’s women accomplished
in the graceful play of curving eye-brows,
their eyes with upturned lashes flashing
with the beauty of gazelles leaping up
and far surpassing the grace of honey-bees
on white jasmines swaying.
50
Ranging with your shadow through the land
of Brahmāvarta stretching below Kuru’s field,
do not fail to visit the battleground
that marks the great war of the barons,
where the wielder of the Gāndīva-bow
showered hundreds of sharp arrows on princely faces
as you shoot driving downpours on lotuses.
51
The Plough-Bearer, turning away from that war
out of affection for his kinsmen, renounced
the cherished wine reflecting Revatī’s eyes7
and worshipped Sarasvatī’s waters; you too,
enjoying those waters, O gentle Sir,
will become pure within, dark only in form.
52
From there you should visit Jahnu’s daughter
near Kanakhala’s hill where she comes down
the slopes of the Lord of Mountains, making
a stairway for Sagara’s sons going up to Heaven.
She grasped Śiva’s matted hair
clinging with wave-hands to His crest-jewel, the moon,
foam-laughter mocking the frown on Gaurī’s face.
53
If you aim to drink her clear crystal waters slantwise,
hanging down by your hind-quarters in the sky
like some elephant out of Paradise,
as your shadow glides along her stream
she would appear beautiful at once as though
she and Yamunā flowed together at that spot.8
54
Reaching that river’s true birth-place, the mountain
white with snows, its rocks scented by musk deer lying there:
and reclining on its peak to remove
the long journey’s weariness, you will wear
a beauty comparable to the stain on the horn
of the triple-eyed lord’s white bull rooting in the mud.
55
If a forest-fire born of cedar branches
clashing in the blowing wind
should assail the mountain, and its fiery sparks
scorch the bushy tails of yaks,
pray quench it fully with a thousand sharp showers.
The riches of the great are best employed
to ease the miseries of the distressed.
56
Unable to bear the thunder hurled down,
Śarabhas on the mountain puffed up with pride
will suddenly spring up in fury towards you
who are beyond reach, only to shatter their own limbs;
scatter them with your tumultuous laughter of hail.
Who indeed that undertakes vain-glorious acts
would not become the butt of ridicule!
57
Bending low in adoration, go round
the rock bearing the foot-print of the moon-crested Lord,
perpetually worshipped with offerings by Siddhas;
looking upon it, the body abandoned
and sins shaken off, the faithful gain
the Eternal Station of the Lord’s attendants.
58
The wind breathing through hollow bamboos makes sweet music;
woodland nymphs sing with passion-filled voices
of the victory over the triple-city;
if your thunder rumbles in the glens like a drum
would not the ensemble then be complete
for the Dance-Drama of the Lord of Beings?
59
Passing over many marvels on Himālaya’s slopes,
you should go north through the narrow Kraunca-pass
—gateway for wild geese and path to glory
for the Bhṛgu Chief—lengthened out cross-wise,
beautiful like Viṣṇu’s dark-blue foot
stretched out to curb Bali’s pride.
60
Still climbing higher, be Kailāsa’s guest
—mirror for goddesses—the joints of its ridges
cracked by ten-faced Rāvana’s straining arms.
Towering up into the sky with lofty peaks
radiant like white water-lilies, it stands
as if it were the wild laughter
of the Parent of the Triple-World9
piled up through the ages.
61
When, glistening like smooth-ground collyrium, you lean
dark on its slopes white as ivory freshly cut,
that mountain, I imagine would, like the Plough-Bearer
with a dark-blue mantle slung o’er his shoulder
attain to a grace so arresting
as to hold the gaze entranced.
62
And if Gaurī should stroll on that mountain
created for play, holding Śiva’s hand
divested of its snake-bracelet,
hardening your mass of waters within,
form yourself into wave-like steps
and go before her as she climbs the jewelled slopes.
63
When struck by swarms of sparks off Indra’s thunderbolt10
your water-jets shoot out, celestial maidens there
will surely use you for their bath;
having found you in summer’s heat, my friend,
if these girls eager for play will not let you go,
you should scare them with harsh-sounding roars.
64
Sipping Mānasa waters where golden lotuses grow,
joyfully giving Airāvata
the fleeting pleasure of your veiling shade,
fluttering with rain-drenched breezes
the fine silk garments of tender leaves
the Tree of Paradise wears,
amuse yourself on that majestic mountain
whose jewelled slopes glitter in chequered light and shade.
65
Once seen, O wanderer-at-will, you cannot but recognize
Alakā on its upper slope seated as on her lover’s lap
—Gangā, her fine garment, falling down—
High over her many-storied mansions
like a woman with her hair piled up
and bound in a net of pearls, she bears
masses of clouds shedding water in the rainy season.
66
Where palaces with their cloud-kissing tops
equal you in loftiness,
and their gem-paved floors rival the glitter
of your glistening rain drops;
where paintings on the walls vie
with your rainbow hues;
and graceful movements of lovely women
rival the lightning’s play;
where drums beaten to the sound of music
resemble your thunder, mellow, deep-throated:
And in each particular more than compare with you.
67
Where women toy with a lotus held in the hand,
twine fresh jasmines in their hair;
the beauty of their faces glows pale gold
dusted with the pollen of Lodhra flowers;
fresh amaranth-blooms encircle the hair-knot,
a delicate Śirīṣa nestles at the ear;
and on the hair-parting lie Kadambā blossoms
born at your coming.
68
Where yakṣas accompanied by highborn ladies
resort to their palace-terraces
paved with precious gems star-flower-mirroring,11
to partake of passion-kindling flower wines
pressed from the Tree of Paradise,
while drumheads softly struck
throb deep-throated tones like yours.
69
Where at sunrise the path followed at night
by amorous women hastening to midnight trysts
with faltering steps, is marked by telltale signs—
Mandāra flowers fallen from playful curls
and petals of golden lotuses worn at the ears,
dislodged, lie strewn on the ground, with pearls
scattered loose as the threads snapped
of bodices of pearls that closely held their breasts.
70
Where lovers undoing the knot at the waist,
hands trembling with passion,
toss aside silken garments loosening,
yakṣa women with lips like Bimba fruit,
overcome by shy confusion
aim handfuls of aromatic powder
at glittering gems serving as lamps.
Ah! What fruitless throws even though they hit their mark.
71
Where, led to terraces of lofty mansions
by their guide the ever-moving wind,
rain clouds like you stain the paintings
with droplets of water;
then, seeming fearful flee at once
fragmented through lattices,
assuming with practised skill
the shapes of smoke streaming out.
72
Where at midnight moonstones
hanging from networks of threads,
touched by the moon’s feet
resplendent as you move away
shed clear drops of coolness
to dispel the languor born
of oft-enjoyed loveplay in women
just released from a loved husband’s close embrace.
73
Where, knowing the Supreme One to dwell incarnate,
friend to the Lord of Treasures,
the God of Love out of fear refrains from drawing
his bow strung with honeybees,
his work accomplished by lovely women
displaying their alluring charms, who bend
the bow of their eyebrows to shoot bright glances
unerringly at Love’s targets.
74
There, to the north of the palaces
of the Lord of Treasures stands our home
recognizable from afar by its arched gateway
beautiful as the rainbow.
Close by grows a young Mandāra tree
nurtured by my love like a son and now bending
with clusters of blossoms
within reach of her hand.
75
A flight of steps, all emerald slabs—
a pool patterned over
by full-blown lotuses on glossy beryl stems—
Wild geese haunt its waters, freed from restless longing,
no longer resorting to nearby Mānasa-lake
even after they see you coming.
76
By its edge is a miniature hill, wondrous,
with sapphire-inlaid crest, exquisitely blue
and ringed round by golden plantain-trees.
Watching you glitter at the edges with lightning-gleams
my heart trembles struck by the memory of that hill, my friend,
remembering how dear it was to my beloved wife.
77
On it by a fragrant jasmine bower
encircled by a hedge of amaranth
stands a red Aśoka fluttering its tender leaves,
and the dearly-loved Kesara too.
One craves the touch of your friend’s lovely foot,
the other longs for the wine of her mouth,
pretending it is blossom-time.
78
And between them a golden rod rising
from a pedestal of jade whose sheen
rivals that of bamboos newly-sprouted
supports a crystal tablet;
your blue-throated friend
settles on it at close of day
after my love clapping her hands has made him dance
to the sweet tinkling of her bracelets.
79
By these tokens of recognition
treasured in your heart, O wise one!
And noting the beautifully-drawn forms
of lotus and conch on the sides of the door,
you will know the mansion, its lustre dimmed
no doubt by my absence: when the sun has set
the lotus does not show forth in all its glory.
80
At once becoming small as an elephant cub
for a speedy descent, seated on the charming crest
of that pleasure-hill I described before,
you may easily dart into the mansion
faint lightning-glances twinkling
like a glittering line of fireflies.
81
There you will see her, in the springtime of youth, slender,
her teeth jasmine-buds, her lips ripe bimba-fruit,
slim-waisted, with deep navel
and the tremulous eyes of a startled doe,
moving languidly from the weight of her hips,
her body bowed down a little by her breasts
—Ah! The Creator’s master-work among women.
82
Know her to be my second life,
alone, speaking little,
mourning like a cakravaki
her companion far away.
With the passing of these long days, racked
by intense longing, the young girl
would appear so changed I think,
like a lotus-plant struck by the chilling hoar-frost.
83
Weeping passionately, her eyes would be swollen
and her lips withered by burning sighs;
my beloved’s face cupped in the palm of her hand,
only glimpsed through loose tresses flowing down
would surely appear like the miserable moon
stricken pale when shadowed by you.
84
She will come into your view absorbed
in the day’s rites of worship or drawing my likeness
imagined wasted by separation
or asking the melodious songster in the cage,
‘sweet one, do you remember our lord?
You were a favourite with him.’
85
Or, clad in a drab garment she may place
the lute on her lap, wishing to sing a melody
set to words signifying my name;
succeeding somehow in tuning the strings
wet with her tears, O gentle friend, she forgets
again and again the sequence of notes
even though she composed it herself.
86
Or, beginning with the day of our parting
she may count the months remaining,
laying out in order on the floor,
flowers placed at the threshold;
or, savouring imagined pleasures of love
treasured in her heart:
—such are the only diversions of women
sorrowing in the absence of their husbands.
87
Occupied by day, the pangs of loneliness
would not distress your friend too keenly,
but I fear the nights devoid of diversions
would pass heavy with grief;
therefore, I pray, meet the faithful girl
at midnight with my messages,
standing at the window close to where she lies
wakeful on the ground, and comfort her.
88
Wasted by anguish
she would be lying on her bed of loneliness
drawing herself together on one side,
seeming like the last sliver
of the waning moon on the eastern horizon.
By my side her nights flew by
on winged moments in rapture’s fullness;
now they drag on, heavy with her burning tears.
89
With a burning sigh that withers her lips
tender as leaf-buds, you will see her
toss aside those curling tresses
rough with frequent ritual-baths,
that stray down her cheeks uncared for.
Longing for sleep, hoping in dreams at least
she would be one with me in love,
a sudden torrent of tears might wash away those hopes.
90
On that first day of parting, her tresses
with their wreath of flowers stripped off were twisted
and plaited into one single braid
which I shall unwind when the curse is ended
and all my sorrows melted away:
you will see her with untrimmed nails pushing
that tangled braid, rough and painful to the touch,
repeatedly off the curve of her cheek.
91
Remembering past delights her eyes would turn
towards the moonbeams, cool, ambrosial,
streaming in through the lattices,
and turn away at once in sorrow.
Veiling her eyes with lashes heavy-laden with tears
she will seem to be hovering uncertain
between waking and dreaming
—a day-lily on a cloudy day neither open nor shut.
92
Casting aside all adornments,
keeping alive her fragile body in measureless sorrow,
desolate, my love would try in vain
time and again to throw herself on her bed;
the sight I am sure will make you shed some freshwater tears;
for tender hearts ever melt in compassion.
93
I know well you friend’s heart is filled with love for me,
hence I believe her brought to this pitiable state
in this our very first parting.
It is not vain self-esteem that makes a braggart of me;
all I have said, my brother,
you will soon see before your very eyes.
94
Lack-lustre without glossy collyrium,
the sidelong glance blocked by straying hair,
the eyebrow’s graceful play forgotten
through abstaining from wine,
the doe-eyed lady’s left eye
would throb at your coming, I guess,
and match the charm of blue lotuses
quivering as fishes dart among them.
95
And her left thigh—bare of my nail marks,
unadorned by the network of pearls of the long-worn zone
she cast aside struck by the turn of fate,
so used to the gentle stroking of my hands
after love’s enjoyment—
pale as a tender plantain’s stem will start quivering.
96
If at that time, O Rain-Giver,
she has found happiness, pray wait near her,
just one watch of the night withholding your thunder;
having striven hard to find me, her beloved,
in a dream of love, let not her arms
twined like tender vines round my neck in close embrace,
suddenly fall away from their hold.
97
Awakening her with a breeze
cooled by your fine spray, when revived
along with the fragrant jasmine’s
fresh clusters of buds, she gazes intensely
at the casement graced by your presence,
begin to address the noble lady
in vibrant tones courteous,
with your lightning-gleams hidden deep within you.
98
O un widowed lady! Know me,
your husband’s dear friend, a rain cloud
come to tender to you
his messages treasured in my heart.
With deep but gentle tones
I speed weary travellers yearning
to unknot the tangled braids of their grieving wives,
on their way home from distant lands.
99
Thus addressed, like Mithila’s princess
lifting her face up to the Son of the Wind,
she will gaze on you, her heart opening
like a flower from eager expectation:
welcoming you at once, with deep respect
she’ll listen with rapt attention, gentle friend;
for news of husbands brought by a friend
are to women the closest thing to reunion.
100
O long-lived one! In response to my plea
and to honour yourself, speak to her thus:
your consort lives,
haunting Rāmagiri’s hermitages—
parted from you he asks
if all is well with you, tender lady!
Such soothing words should be addressed first
to living beings who fall prey to calamity.
101
Far off, his way barred by adverse decree,
in his imaginings
his body becomes one with your body;
thin with thin,
anguished with intensely anguished,
tear-drowned with tear-drenched
yearning with endlessly yearning,
your hotly-sighing body
with his racked by long drawn-out sighs.
102
Who, before your companions
loved to whisper in your ear
what could well be said aloud indeed,
for he longed to touch your face,
he, gone beyond range of your hearing,
not seen by your eyes, speaks
through my mouth to you, these words
shaped by his intense yearning.
103
In the śyāma-vines I see your body,
your glance in the gazelle’s startled eye,
the cool radiance of your face in the moon,
your tresses in the peacock’s luxuriant train,
your eyebrow’s graceful curve in the stream’s small waves;
but alas! O cruel one, I see not
your whole likeness anywhere in any one thing.
104
Scent of warm earth rain-sprinkled, rising fresh,
O my darling, as the fragrance of your mouth, and
the God of Love, five-arrowed, wastes my frame
already wasted, grieving, far from you.
For pity’s sake, think how my days pass
now at summer’s close, as massed rain clouds
rending the sunshine, scatter the pieces
and cling enamoured to the sky in all directions.
105
With bright ores, I draw you on a rock
feigning anger, but when I wish
to draw myself fallen at your feet,
at once my eyes are dimmed by ever-welling tears.
Ha! How cruel is fate that even here
it will not suffer our reunion.
106
Striving hard I find you in a waking dream,
I stretch my arms out into the empty air
to fold you in a passionate embrace.
Those large pearl-drops clustering on tender leaf-shoots
are surely—are they not—the tears
the tree-goddesses shed watching my grief?
107
Sudden, Himālayan breezes split open
the tightly-shut leaf-buds on deodars,
and redolent of their oozing resin
blow south; I embrace those breezes
fondly imagining they have of late
touched your limbs, O perfect one!
108
If only the long-drawn-out night
could be squeezed into a single moment,
if only the hot summer’s day
would glow at all times with a gentle warmth;
my heart, breathing these unattainable prayers
is left a defence-less prey,
O lady with bright-glancing eyes!
To the fierce pangs of separation from you.
109
But no more of me; reflecting deeply
I bear up, drawing on my own inner strength;
you too, lady most blessed,
should resist falling into utter dejection.
Whom does happiness always attend
or misery always befall?
Man’s state on earth like the rim of a wheel
goes down and comes up again.
110
With Viṣṇu risen from His serpent couch
my curse shall be ended; closing your eyes
make the four remaining months go by;
then on autumnal nights bright with moonlight
we two shall taste together every desire
eagerly imagined when we were apart.
111
And further he said this: once in bed
asleep, still clinging to my neck
you woke up on a sudden, weeping a little,
and when I asked why again and again,
laughing to yourself you said,
—ah, you cheat, I saw you in my dream
playing with another woman.
112
By this token of recognition
know that I am well; and do not doubt me
O dark-eyed one, believing idle reports
that say for no good reason
that absence destroys the affections;
Ah no, the lack of pleasure makes
the craving intense for what is desired,
piling it up into love’s great hoard.
113
I trust, noble friend, you are resolved
to do this kindly service for me?
I cannot think your grave look forbodes refusal;
without a sound you offer cātakas
the water they crave; the answer
noble ones make is to do the thing wished for.
114
Having granted this wish so dear to my heart,
strange as it may seem,
for friendship’s sake or out of pity for me, desolated,
wander, O Cloud, in all the lands you choose,
gathering greater glory in the rains;
may you never be parted from the lightning
even for an instant.