The lover speaks to his heart:
Like an exquisite, skilfully wrought garland
of white kantal flowers
and bright green buds of jasmine, yet to unfold,
interspersed with fragrant petals of blue water lilies
is my sweet one's fragrant body,
more delicate than a mango tree's tender shoots
and more delightful yet to embrace.
(62)
The lover speaks to his heart:
'Those who have nothing
(63)
She said:
He knows how I suffer
(64)
She said:
A stag drinks from the clear pools
(65)
Winter has arrived and her lover has not returned as he had promised. Her friend tries to console her by pretending that the laburnum trees have blossomed too early, having mistaken the showers of late summer for the first winter rains. Her friend said:
Setting off across those arid desert lands
(66)
Her lover promised to return at the time of the neem trees flowering. Already parrots are eating their ripened fruit and still he has not returned. She said to her friend: Away he went across that wilderness
(67): She said:
To ease the harshness
(68)
Her friend tries to speed up the lover's proposal by telling him not to come to her at night. "We fear for your safety", she says. Her friend said:
You who dwell in the mountains
(69)
The lover speak to his heart:
Her braids are sleek and heavy,
(70)
The lover speaks to his heart:
If it's the nectar of the Gods I want
(71)
He said:
Her large liquid eyes, like lotus blossoms
(72)
By refusing the lover access to the heroine on some pretext, her friend hopes to precipitate his proposal of marriage. Her friend said:
You yearn so much
(73)
Her friend said:
Of course
(74)
She said:
Did you see him come yourself?
or perhaps
(75)
Her friend tells her of the rumours that her lover has already left without taking leave of her. She had guessed as much already. She said:
So, they say he is going,
(76)
Her friend reproaches her for pining over her lover's absence. She said:
Listen, my friend
(77)
His friend said:
My Lord of the glorious hill country
(78)
She said:
Far away in that little village
can neither give to others
nor find any pleasure for themselves,'
you thought,
so you firmly resolved
to leave and seek your fortune.
But will our dark beauty
come with us on our quest?
Or are you going to send of us off without her?
Speak, my heart.
like young calves in the evening
when they lift their heads
and turn their innocent gaze
to the enclosure
from which the herd wandered off
along that long track,
yet my lover in that distant land
remains there still, far away.
which lie amongst the hard pebbles
returns to his cherished mate,
and they prance with delight
as the rainy season comes
bringing cool showers.
And it seems to be saying:
'Is it for pain and suffering that you live,
longing for one to come
who comes not, and remains far way?'
where the mountains rear up tall and bare,
your lover said he would return before winter.
That time has not yet come
yet already the branches
of the kondrai trees with their fat trunks
are thickly covered
with clusters of long trailing blossoms.
They have obviously mistaken
these fleeting summer showers
for the winter rains.
How stupid of them!
of sun-scorched kalli bushes
where a neem tree’s shiny red berry
caught in a parrot’s curving beak
looks just like a bright, golden medallion
which a young girl is trying to re-thread,
holding it between the sharp points
of her long, delicately tapering fingernails...
I wonder, if there is still a place
in his heart for me?
of this season of early evening dew
when deer plunder ripened pods
from the bean plant
whose stalk is red like a quail's foot,
there is no remedy
other than the breast
of the one who made me his wife.
where a black-eyed monkey
leaps to his death
and his devoted mate,
entrusting her young one,
strong yet still untutored,
to the rest of the tribe,
goes bounding off across the steep hillsides
to end her own life,
please do not come at dead of night -
it distresses us so much.
her forehead bright,
my little girl.
Her nature's sweet and mild
- and she breaks my heart.
I know no ornament of speech
which might describe such a one.
These few feeble words are all I have.
She's softer than down
when I hold her in my arms.
nectar I have
and if it's riches I want, riches I have
in this maiden with her fine full breasts
freckled with beauty spots,
her full shoulders and tiny waist –
a generous gift indeed
of the tribesmen who dwell in the hills.
dancing, sharp as arrows
wounded me deeply
and left no-one in any doubt about that -
with her musical voice and soft round arms,
shooing away the little birds
from millet fields dotted with cotton shrubs
high up there in the mountains.
to be in your beloved's arms.
But do not fret, my friend -
like the Kosar, men of their word,
who devised a plan
to uproot Nannan's sweet mango tree
and have it dragged back to their land,
we must resort to this cruel stratagem,
at least for a while.
he doesn’t know how you pine for him,
your young lover from the mountains
where the green stemmed bamboo grows,
so springy that if you bend it back
it flashes upward to touch the heavens
as swift as a spirited horse
when its tether is loosed.
But then
he loves you too
your radiant beauty captivates him
and he frets like a bull calf
tied up in his stall
when the spring comes.
you heard it from someone who did?
Tell me
and I’ll pray
that Patali, the city of gold
on the banks of the Sonai river
where elephants dip their white tusks
shall become yours alone.
But if someone told you
who could it have been?
Tell me please
so that I can be sure.
my lover whose breast
is a stony mountain slope,
to that fair country
where the high peaks soar
and the hedges are of kantal trees,
and I remain here
trembling and filled with fear
in the bitter cold of winter
when the icy north-wind
blows down from the hills
lifting and caressing
the swaying, fleshy leaves of the cembu plant:
like the ears of some great elephant.
if these broad, soft shoulders
have grown hollow
on account of his going away
across that impassable wilderness
where the only shade
for the big strong elephants
are the stone cairns
heaped up in the burning desert
and topped with dry leaves
under which murdered travellers
lay buried,
I cannot agree that it is any fault of theirs.
where long sliver streams
born amongst the tall summits
come roaring down the mountainside
sounding like the measured drumbeats
of a dancing troupe,
love is a thing to be very wary off -
it makes us do very stupid things,
like going to pay court to those
who do not love us in return.
with its pretty houses
out along the desert road
where the plaintive lament of a she-dove
calling for her mate
echoes from a withered branch
high up in an omai tree
whose great boughs sway in the wind
and whose parched trunk
has been stripped of its bark,
a great delicacy,
by roving wild elephants,
does he think of me?
Was it knowing that I would never consent
that made him harden his heart
and go away like this,
without saying a word?