Padmaja, aetat 3
Lotus-maiden, you who claim All the sweetness of your name, Lakshmi, fortune's queen, defend you, Lotus-born like you, and send you Balmy moons of love to bless you, Gentle joy-winds to caress you.Lotus- maiden, may you be Fragrant of all ecstasy.
Ranadheera, aetat 2
Little lord of battle, hail In your newly-tempered mail! Learn to conquer, learn to fight In the foremost flanks of right, Like Valmiki's heroes bold, Rubies girt in epic gold.Lord of battle, may you be, Lord of love and chivalry.
Lilamani, aetat 1
Limpid jewel of delight Severed from the tender night Of your sheltering mother-mine, Leap and sparkle, dance and shine, Blithely and securely set In love's magic coronet.Living jewel, may you be Laughter- bound and sorrow-free.
THE PARDAH NASHIN
Her life is a revolving dream Of languid and sequestered ease; Her girdles and her fillets gleam Like changing fires on sunset seas; Her raiment is like morning mist, Shot opal, gold and amethyst.From thieving light of eyes impure, From coveting sun or wind's caress, Her days are guarded and secure Behind her carven lattices, Like jewels in a turbaned crest, Like secrets in a lover's breast.
But though no hand unsanctioned dares Unveil the mysteries of her grace, Time lifts the curtain unawares, And Sorrow looks into her face...
Who shall prevent the subtle years, Or shield a woman's eyes from tears?
TO YOUTH
O Youth, sweet comrade Youth, wouldst thou be gone? Long have we dwelt together, thou and I; Together drunk of many an alien dawn, And plucked the fruit of many an alien sky.
Ah, fickle friend, must I, who yesterday Dreamed forwards to long, undimmed ecstasy, Henceforward dream, because thou wilt not stay, Backward to transient pleasure and to thee?
I give thee back thy false, ephemeral vow; But, O beloved comrade, ere we part, Upon my mournful eyelids and my brow Kiss me who hold thine image in my heart.
NIGHTFALL IN THE CITY OF HYDERABAD
See how the speckled sky burns like a pigeon's throat, Jewelled with embers of opal and peridote.
See the white river that flashes and scintillates, Curved like a tusk from the mouth of the city-gates.
Hark, from the minaret, how the muezzin's call Floats like a battle-flag over the city wall.
From trellised balconies, languid and luminous Faces gleam, veiled in a splendour voluminous.
Leisurely elephants wind through the winding lanes, Swinging their silver bells hung from their silver chains.
Round the high Char Minar sounds of gay cavalcades Blend with the music of cymbals and serenades.
Over the city bridge Night comes majestical, Borne like a queen to a sumptuous festival.
STREET CRIES
When dawn's first cymbals beat upon the sky, Rousing the world to labour's various cry, To tend the flock, to bind the mellowing grain, From ardent toil to forge a little gain, And fasting men go forth on hurrying feet, BUY BREAD, BUY BREAD, rings down the eager street.
When the earth falters and the waters swoon With the implacable radiance of noon, And in dim shelters koils hush their notes, And the faint, thirsting blood in languid throats Craves liquid succour from the cruel heat, BUY FRUIT, BUY FRUIT, steals down the panting street.
When twilight twinkling o'er the gay bazaars, Unfurls a sudden canopy of stars, When lutes are strung and fragrant torches lit On white roof- terraces where lovers sit Drinking together of life's poignant sweet, BUY FLOWERS, BUY FLOWERS, floats down the singing street.
TO INDIA
O young through all thy immemorial years! Rise, Mother, rise, regenerate from thy gloom, And, like a bride high-mated with the spheres, Beget new glories from thine ageless womb!
The nations that in fettered darkness weep Crave thee to lead them where great mornings break....Mother, O Mother, wherefore dost thou sleep? Arise and answer for thy children's sake!
Thy Future calls thee with a manifold sound To crescent honours, splendours, victories vast; Waken, O slumbering Mother and be crowned, Who once wert empress of the sovereign Past.
THE ROYAL TOMBS OF GOLCONDA
I muse among these silent fanes Whose spacious darkness guards your dust; Around me sleep the hoary plains That hold your ancient wars in trust.I pause, my dreaming spirit hears, Across the wind's unquiet tides,The glimmering music of your spears, The laughter of your royal brides.
In vain, O Kings, doth time aspire To make your names oblivion's sport, While yonder hill wears like a tier The ruined grandeur of your fort.Though centuries falter and decline, Your proven strongholds shall remain Embodied memories of your line, Incarnate legends of your reign.
O Queens, in vain old Fate decreed Your flower-like bodies to the tomb; Death is in truth the vital seed Of your imperishable bloom Each new-born year the bulbuls sing Their songs of your renascent loves; Your beauty wakens with the spring To kindle these pomegranate groves.
TO A BUDDHA SEATED ON A LOTUS
Lord Buddha, on thy Lotus-throne, With praying eyes and hands elate, What mystic rapture dost thou own, Immutable and ultimate? What peace, unravished of our ken, Annihilate from the world of men?
The wind of change for ever blows Across the tumult of our way, To- morrow's unborn griefs depose The sorrows of our yesterday.Dream yields to dream, strife follows strife,And Death unweaves the webs of Life.
For us the travail and the heat, The broken secrets of our pride, The strenuous lessons of defeat, The flower deferred, the fruit denied; But not the peace, supremely won, Lord Buddha, of thy Lotus-throne.
With futile hands we seek to gain Our inaccessible desire, Diviner summits to attain, With faith that sinks and feet that tire; But nought shall conquer or control The heavenward hunger of our soul.
The end, elusive and afar, Still lures us with its beckoning flight, And all our mortal moments are A session of the Infinite.How shall we reach the great, unknown Nirvana of thy Lotus-throne?
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