Now silent, now singing and swaying and swing- ing, like blossoms that bend to the breezes or showers, Now wantonly winding, they flash, now they falter, and, lingering, languish in radiant choir; Their jewel- girt arms and warm, wavering, lily- long fingers enchant through melodious hours, Eyes ravished with rapture, celestially pant- ing, what passionate bosoms aflaming with fire!
MY DEAD DREAM
Have you found me, at last, O my Dream? Seven aeons ago You died and I buried you deep under forests of snow.Why have you come hither? Who bade you awake from your sleep And track me beyond the cerulean foam of the deep?
Would you tear from my lintels these sacredgreen garlands of leaves? Would you scare the white, nested, wildpigeons of joy from my eaves? Would you touch and defile with dead fingersthe robes of my priest? Would you weave your dim moan with thechantings of love at my feast?
Go back to your grave, O my Dream, under forests of snow, Where a heart-riven child hid you once, seven aeons ago.Who bade you arise from your darkness? I bid you depart! Profane not the shrines I have raised in theclefts of my heart.
DAMAYANTE TO NALA IN THE HOUR OF EXILE
(A fragment)
Shalt thou be conquered of a human fate My liege, my lover, whose imperial head Hath never bent in sorrow of defeat? Shalt thou be vanquished, whose imperial feet Have shattered armies and stamped empires dead? Who shall unking thee, husband of a queen? Wear thou thy majesty inviolate.Earth's glories flee of human eyes unseen, Earth'skingdoms fade to a remembered dream, But thine henceforth shall be a power supreme, Dazzling command and rich dominion, The winds thy heralds and thy vassals all The silver-belted planets and the sun.Where'er the radiance of thy coming fall, Shall dawn for thee her saffron footcloths spread, Sunset her purple canopies and red, In serried splendour, and the night unfold Her velvet darkness wrought with starry gold For kingly raiment, soft as cygnet-down.My hair shall braid thy temples like a crown Of sapphires, and my kiss upon thy brows Like cithar-music lull thee to repose, Till the sun yield thee homage of his light.
O king, thy kingdom who from thee can wrest? What fate shall dare uncrown thee from this breast, O god-born lover, whom my love doth gird And armour with impregnable delight Of Hope's triumphant keen flame- carven sword?
THE QUEEN'S RIVAL
QUEEN Gulnaar sat on her ivory bed, Around her countless treasures were spread;Her chamber walls were richly inlaid With agate, porphory, onyx and jade;The tissues that veiled her delicate breast, Glowed with the hues of a lapwing's crest;But still she gazed in her mirror and sighed "O King, my heart is unsatisfied."King Feroz bent from his ebony seat: "Is thy least desire unfulfilled, O Sweet?
"Let thy mouth speak and my life be spent To clear the sky of thy discontent.""I tire of my beauty, I tire of this Empty splendour and shadowless bliss;"With none to envy and none gainsay, No savour or salt hath my dream or day."Queen Gulnaar sighed like a murmuring rose: "Give me a rival, O King Feroz."
II
King Feroz spoke to his Chief Vizier: "Lo! ere to-morrow's dawn be here,"Send forth my messengers over the sea, To seek seven beautiful brides for me;"Radiant of feature and regal of mien, Seven handmaids meet for the Persian Queen.".....
Seven new moon tides at the Vesper call, King Feroz led to Queen Gulnaar's hallA young queen eyed like the morning star: "I bring thee a rival, O Queen Gulnaar."But still she gazed in her mirror and sighed: "O King, my heart is unsatisfied."Seven queens shone round her ivory bed, Like seven soft gems on a silken thread,Like seven fair lamps in a royal tower, Like seven bright petals of Beauty's flowerQueen Gulnaar sighed like a murmuring rose "Where is my rival, O King Feroz?"
III
When spring winds wakened the mountain floods, And kindled the flame of the tulip buds, When bees grew loud and the days grew long, And the peach groves thrilled to the oriole's song,Queen Gulnaar sat on her ivory bed, Decking with jewels her exquisite head;And still she gazed in her mirror and sighed: "O King, my heart is unsatisfied."Queen Gulnsar's daughter two spring times old, In blue robes bordered with tassels of gold,Ran to her knee like a wildwood fay, And plucked from her hand themirror away.
Quickly she set on her own light curls Her mother's fillet with fringes of pearls;Quickly she turned with a child's caprice And pressed on the mirror a swift, glad kiss.
Queen Gulnaar laughed like a tremulous rose: "Here is my rival, O King Feroz."
THE POET TO DEATH
Tarry a while, O Death, I cannot die While yet my sweet life burgeons with its spring; Fair is my youth, and rich the echoing boughs Where dhadikulas sing.
Tarry a while, O Death, I cannot die With all my blossoming hopes unharvested, My joys ungarnered, all my songs unsung, And all my tears unshed.
Tarry a while, till I am satisfied Of love and grief, of earth and altering sky; Till all my human hungers are fulfilled, O Death, I cannot die!
THE INDIAN GIPSY
In tattered robes that hoard a glittering trace Of bygone colours, broidered to the knee, Behold her, daughter of a wandering race, Tameless, with the bold falcon's agile grace, And the lithe tiger's sinuous majesty.
With frugal skill her simple wants she tends, She folds her tawny heifers and her sheep On lonely meadows when the daylight ends, Ere the quick night upon her flock descends Like a black panther from the caves of sleep.
Time's river winds in foaming centuries Its changing, swift, irrevocable course To far off and incalculable seas; She is twin-born with primal mysteries, And drinks of life at Time's forgotten source.
TO MY CHILDREN
Jaya Surya, aetat 4
Golden sun of victory, born In my life's unclouded morn, In my lambent sky of love, May your growing glory prove Sacred to your consecration, To my heart and to my nation.Sun of victory, may you be Sun of song and liberty.
