Rādhā Pūrbbarāga
XXI
Rādhā: How shall I tell of Kānu’s beauty, my dear?
Who shall describe that dream-shape?
His lovely form is a fresh cloud,
His yellow garment the lightning’s flash.
So black, so black his waving hair!
The peacock-plume so near the moon’s orb!
For fragrance of the screw-pine and the jasmine,
Madan casts away his flower-arrows in dismay.
Vidyāpati asks: What more shall I say?
Nature has emptied Madan’s treasury!
XXII
Rādhā: I had desired to look on Kānu,
But when I saw him I was filled with fear:
Ever since then I am both fond and foolish,
I have no knowledge at all what I say or do.
My twin eyes wept like dripping rain,
Unceasingly my heart went pit-a-pat:
I cannot think what made me look on him, my dear,
Just for that whim, I lent my life into another’s hand!
I cannot tell what that dear thief has done to me,—
When I beheld him, he did steal my heart, and went away,
And as he went he showed so many signs of love,
The more I would forget, the less I may!
Hearken, fair maid, says Vidyāpati:
Have patience in your heart, for you shall meet Murāri.
XXIII
Rādhā: A peerless beauty I beheld, my dear,
If you but listen, you may know it was the vision of a dream
Twin lotus-feet that wore a string of moons,
From them two tender tamāl-shafts arising,—
Around them twined a vine of lightning,
(He slowly passed along Kālindī’s bank):
Upon his leaf-like hands another string of moons—
The lustre of the sun on new-blown flowers.
Twin flawless bimba-fruits were ripe.
Above them sat a tranquil parrot:
Over him twin restless wagtails.
Over them a serpent coiled about his head.
My playful maid, explain:
Why did he steal my wits when I beheld him thus?
Vidyāpati says: It is a sign of love;
Well have you weighed the worthy wight.
XXIV
Rādhā: How can I tell the limits of my grief, my dear?
The blowing of that flute diffuses poison through my frame:
Insistently I hear it sounding,
And then my heart and body melt in shame.
In that supreme instant, my body fills to overflowing,
I dare not lift my eyes lest anyone should know of it:
In the company of elders, waves of emotion sweeping through me,
I draw my dress across each limb to hide it carefully.
With softest steps I walk about the house—
Kind fate has so far hidden my secret shame—
But rapture fills my heart and body, my girdle slips!
Vidyāpati is dazed! What can he say?