Translations of Shakuntala and Other Works

fourth, touching something which she has touched.

Himalaya's breeze blows gently from the north, Unsheathing twigs upon the deodar And sweet with sap that it entices forth— I embrace it lovingly; it came so far, Perhaps it touched thee first, my life's unchanging star!

Oh, might the long, long night seem short to me! Oh, might the day his hourly tortures hide! Such longings for the things that cannot be, Consume my helpless heart, sweet-glancing bride, In burning agonies of absence from thy side.

The bride is besought not to lose heart at hearing of her lover's wretchedness,

Yet much reflection, dearest, makes me strong, Strong with an inner strength; nor shouldst thou feel Despair at what has come to us of wrong; Who has unending woe or lasting weal? Our fates move up and down upon a circling wheel.

and to remember that the curse has its appointed end, when the rainy season is over and the year of exile fulfilled. Vishnu spends the rainy months in sleep upon the back of the cosmic serpent Shesha.

When Vishnu rises from his serpent bed The curse is ended; close thine eyelids tight And wait till only four months more are sped; Then we shall taste each long-desired delight Through nights that the full autumn moon illumines bright.

Then is added a secret which, as it could not possibly be known to a third person, assures her that the cloud is a true messenger.

And one thing more: thou layest once asleep, Clasping my neck, then wakening with a scream; And when I wondered why, thou couldst but weep A while, and then a smile began to beam: "Rogue! Rogue! I saw thee with another girl in dream."

This memory shows me cheerful, gentle wife; Then let no gossip thy suspicions move: They say the affections strangely forfeit life In separation, but in truth they prove Toward the absent dear, a growing bulk of tenderest love.'"

The Yaksha then begs the cloud to return with a message of comfort.

Console her patient heart, to breaking full In our first separation; having spoken, Fly from the mountain ploughed by Shiva's bull; Make strong with message and with tender token My life, so easily, like morning jasmines, broken.

I hope, sweet friend, thou grantest all my suit, Nor read refusal in thy solemn air; When thirsty birds complain, thou givest mute The rain from heaven: such simple hearts are rare, Whose only answer is fulfilment of the prayer.

and dismisses him, with a prayer for his welfare.

Thus, though I pray unworthy, answer me For friendship's sake, or pity's, magnified By the sight of my distress; then wander free In rainy loveliness, and ne'er abide One moment's separation from thy lightning bride.