GITA GOVINDA (2)

His arms entwined about a thousand there;
his body's ornaments made day of night:
In my heart I still see Hari dance
in playful merriment and fun of me.

From clouds his moon-like brow was rising,
breasts with doorway to the heart he bruises:
In my heart I still see Hari dance
in playful merriment and fun of me.

Crocodile the earrings on his cheeks, a dress
that hangs with demons, sages, gods and princes:
In my heart I still see Hari dance
in playful merriment, and fun of me.

At the Kadamba tree my fears were quiet,
the love god darting to my soul in joy:
In my heart I still see Hari dance
in playful merriment, and fun of me.

So speaks Jayadeva: led astray
was Rádhá by an undissembling shape:
In my heart I still see Hari dance
in playful merriment, and fun of me.

* * *

Ever roaming, ever fickle, why
with women round him should he stop? I see
the dancing love-god will delight and then
desert me: what in conscience can I do?

Sixth Song

I found him in his forest's leafy home,
in which in loneliness he lies concealed:
in looking round was frightened, till I saw
his violent passion in abounding laughter.
Why can't Keshi's foe, my friend, reform
his ways, and meet me in desiring him?

At first meeting I was bashful, but
his words were flattering and urgent, kind:
he smiled and pressed me, and that cloth was loosed
that left me standing with pudenda bare.
Why can't Keshi's foe, my friend, reform
his ways, and meet me in desiring him?

How tenderly he treated me, as on
my breast he lay as though asleep:
To me alone he gave his arms and kisses,
played and drank there fully at my lip.
Why can't Keshi's foe, my friend, reform
his ways, and meet me in desiring him?

In indolence, my eyelids closed, I felt
his cheeks there swell and quicken, charming me.
How tired the body was and drenched with sweat
with him in passion riding to and fro.
Why can't Keshi's foe, my friend, reform
his ways, and meet me in desiring him?

By all love's treatises he won his pleasure;
like the cuckoo bird I cooed in murmurs.
Massy breasts he scored with nailmarks, made
my hair go all ways as it dropped its flowers.
Why can't foe Keshi's foe, my friend, reform
his ways, and meet me in desiring him?

My jewelled anklets jingled as he delved
in love's complexities to pleasure me.
My girdle belt he rang: he tore my hair,
but gave me kisses, kisses violently.
Why can't Keshi's foe, my friend, reform
his ways, and meet me in desiring him?

Resting, pleasured from that union, I,
with budded lotus eyes still closed to me,
with no more strength than has a creeper, felt
in Madhu's enemy the love increase.
Why can't Keshi's foe, my friend, reform
his ways, and meet me in desiring him?

So Madhu's enemy, sings Jayadeva,
ever moving, laughing in his sport:
By him deserted, Radha knows such sadness
as the tale, and slowly, goes its way.
Why can't Keshi's foe, my friend, reform
his ways, and meet me in desiring him?

* * *

Govinda with his curly-eyebrowed Vraja
women dancing in the forest saw me.
Glancing, cheek in sweat, he dropped the flute,
as I delighted when he looked at me.

Though winds from forest lakes may coax the buds
from spired Ashoka creepers, and the bees
can wander happily in tufts of Mango,
there is only care in me, my friend.