|
|
SELECTED POEMS OF CHANDIDAS
Selected Poems of Chandidas
Love, but my words are vain as air! In my sweet joyous youth, a heart untried, Thou took’st me in Love’s sudden snare, Thou wouldst not let me in my home abide.
And now I have nought else to try, But I will make my soul one strong desire And into Ocean leaping die: So shall my heart be cooled of all its fire.
Die and be born to life again As Nanda’s son, the joy of Braja’s girls, And I will make thee Radha then, A laughing child’s face set with lovely curls.
Then I will love thee and then leave; Under the Codome’s boughs when thou goest by Bound to the water morn or eve, Lean on that tree fluting melodiously.
Thou shalt hear me and fall at sight Under my charm; my voice shall wholly move Thy simple girl’s heart to delight; Then shalt thou know the bitterness of love. Page– 301 II 0 love, what more shall I, shall Radha speak, Since mortal words are weak ? In life, in death, In being and in breath No other lord but thee can Radha seek.
About thy feet the mighty net is wound Wherein my soul they bound; Myself resigned To servitude my mind; My heart than thine no sweeter slavery found.
I, Radha, thought; through the three worlds my gaze I sent in wild amaze; I was alone. None called me “Radha!”, none; I saw no hand to clasp, no friendly face.
I sought my father’s house; my father’s sight Was empty of delight; No tender friend Her loving voice would lend; My cry came back unanswered from the night.
Therefore to this sweet sanctuary 1 brought My chilled and shuddering thought. Ah, suffer, sweet, To thy most faultless feet That I should cling unchid; ah, spurn me not!
Spurn me not, dear, from thy beloved breast, A woman weak, unblest. Thus let me cling, Thus, thus about my king And thus remain caressing and caressed. Page– 302 I, Radha thought; without my life’s sweet lord, — Strike now thy mightiest chord — I had no power To live one simple hour; His absence slew my soul as with a sword.
If one brief moment steal thee from mine eyes, My heart within me dies. As girls who keep The treasures of the deep, I string thee round my neck and on my bosom prize. Page– 303 III 0 heart, my heart, a heavy pain is thine! What land is that where none doth know Love’s cruel name nor any word of sin ? My heart,
there let us go. Friend of my soul, who then has called love sweet ? Laughing I called from heavenly spheres The sweet love close; he came with flying feet And turned my life to tears.
What highborn girl, exiling virgin pride, Has wooed love to her with a laugh ? His fires shall burn her as in harvest-tide The mowers burn the chaff.
O heart, my heart, merry thy sweet youth ran In fields where no love was; thy breath Is anguish, since his cruel reign began. What other cure but death ? Page– 304 |
|