Sansrkrit poems

H A L F A D O Z E N S A N S K R I T P O E M S


Surely the god of love became her willing slave,
Obedient to the orders that her glances gave.
*
If the forest of her hair
Calls you to explore the land,
And her breasts, those mountains fair,
Tempt that mountaineer, your hand-
Stop! Before it is too late:
Love, the brigand, lies in wait.

` *
A hundred times I learnt from my philosophy
To think no more of love, this vanity,
This dream, this source of all regret,
This emptiness.
But no philosophy can make my heart forget
Her loveliness.

*

No, but look here now, this is just absurd,
The way our famous poets talk of girls
As weak and winsome. Weak ? Is this a word
To use of those who, with a shake of curls
And with the triumph of a modest glance
Can lead the very gods a merry dance?

*
Blow, wind, to where my loved one is,
Touch her, and come and touch me soon:
I’ll feel her gentle touch through you,
And meet her beauty in the moon.
These things are much for one who loves –
A man can live by them alone –That she and I breathe the same air,
And that the earth we tread is one.

*

The moon tries every month in vain
To paint a picture of your face;
And having failed to catch its grace
Destroys the work, and starts again.