THE RAINS

The rain advances like a king

Hear, dearest, how his thunder rings

    Like royal drums and see

His lightning-banners wave; a cloud

    For elephant he rides,

And finds his welcome from the crowd

    Of lovers and of brides.

The clouds, a mighty stormy march

    With drum-like thundering

And stretch upon the rainbow’s arch

    The lightning’s flashing string;

The cruel arrows of the rain

    Smite them who love, apart

From whom they love, with stinging pain,

    And pierce them to the heart.

Their blossom-burden weighs the trees;

    The winds in fragrance move;

The lakes are bright with lotuses,

    The women bright with love;

The days are soft, the evening clear

    And charming; everything

That moves and lives and blossoms, dear,

    Is sweeter in the spring.

The groves are beautifully bright

    For many and many a mile

With jasmine-flowers that are as white

    As loving woman’s smile:

The resolution of a saint

    Might well be tried by this;

Far more, young heart that fancies paint

    With dreams of loving bliss.

SUMMER

Pitiless heat from heaven pours

    By day, but nights are cool;

Continual bathing gently lowers

    The water in the pool;

The evening brings a charming peace:

    For summer-time is here

When love that never knows surcease,

    Is less imperious, dear.

Yet love can never fall asleep;

    For he is waked today

By songs that all their sweetness keep

    And lutes that softly play,

By fans with sandal-water wet

    That brings us drowsy rest,

By strings of pearls that gently fret   

    Full many a lovely breast.

The sunbeams like the fires are hot

    That on the altar wake;

The enmity is quite forgot

    Of peacock and of snake;

The peacock spares his ancient foe,

    For pluck and hunger fail;

He hides his burning head below

    The shadow of his tail…

THE GUPTA COURT

(comparing the Gupta court to the wonders of nature)

 

Its mansions are your equals—

they have for your

lightning

the flash of dazzling women,

for your rainbow

arrays of paintings,

for your deep and soothing

thunder

drums beating for dance and

song,

for your core waters

floors inset with gems,

and roofs that graze the sky for your loftiness.

THE CLOUD MESSENGER

Stay for a while over the thickets, haunted by the girls of the

        hill-folk, then press on with a faster pace, having shed your

      load of water,

and you'll see the Narmada River, scattered in torrents, by

        the rugged rocks at the foot of the Vindhyas,

 looking like a plastered pattern of stripes on the flank of an

        elephant.

Note by the banks the flowers of the nipa trees, greenish

        brown, with the stamens half developed,

        and the plantains, displaying their new buds.

Smell the most fragrant earth of the burnt-out woodlands

        and as you release your raindrops the deer will show you

        the way.

...where the wind from the Sipra River prolongs the shrill

        melodious cry of the cranes,

fragrant at early dawn from the scent of the opening lotus,

        and, like a lover, with flattering requests,

dispels the morning languor of women and refreshes their

        limbs.

Your body will grow fat with the smoke of incense from open

        windows where women dress their hair.

You will be greeted by palace peacocks, dancing to welcome

        you, their friend.

If your heart is weary from travel you may pass the night

        above mansions fragrant with flowers,

whose pavements are marked with red dye from the feet of 

        lovely women.

...where yaksas¹ dwell with lovely women in white mansions,

            whose crystal terraces reflect the stars like flowers.

They drink the wine of love distilled from magic trees,

        while drums beat softly, deeper than the thunder.

I see your body in the sinuous creeper, your gaze in the

        startled eyes of a deer,

Your cheek in the moon, your hair in the plumage of

        peacocks, 

and in the tiny ripples of the river I see your sidelong glances,

but alas, my dearest, nowhere do I find your whole

        likeness!

^{1 "The Yakshas are the spirits of the forests, fields, villages, and towns. They are also serve as the armed forces of the Heavenly King Vaishravana." http://campross.crosswinds.net/ShuteiMandala/vedic.html}

Poems are taken from: The India Sourcebook, edited by Don and Jean Johnson, 1992; supported, in part, by a grant from the Mid-Atlantic Association for Asian Studies.