Shakuntala

by Kalidasa

  That wipes the tear-dew from the lotus' face;

  His anger else were great, and great were thy disgrace.

  XL

  the cloud is besought to travel to Deep River .

  Thy winsome shadow-soul will surely find

  An entrance in Deep River's current bright,

  As thoughts find entrance in a placid mind;

  Then let no rudeness of thine own affright

  The darting fish that seem her glances lotus-white.

  XLI

  But steal her sombre veil of mist away,

  Although her reeds seem hands that clutch the dress

  To hide her charms; thou hast no time to stay,

  Yet who that once has known a dear caress

  Could bear to leave a woman's unveiled loveliness?

  XLII

  Thence to Holy Peak ,

  The breeze 'neath which the breathing acre grants

  New odours, and the forest figs hang sleek,

  With pleasant whistlings drunk by elephants

  Through long and hollow trunks, will gently seek

  To waft thee onward fragrantly to Holy Peak.

  XLIII

  the dwelling-place of Skanda, god of war, the child of Shiva and Gauri, concerning whose birth more than one quaint tale is told .

  There change thy form; become a cloud of flowers

  With heavenly moisture wet, and pay the meed

  Of praise to Skanda with thy blossom showers;

  That sun-outshining god is Shiva's seed,

  Fire-born to save the heavenly hosts in direst need.

  XLIV

  God Skanda's peacock—he whose eyeballs shine

  By Shiva's moon, whose flashing fallen plume

  The god's fond mother wears, a gleaming line

  Over her ear beside the lotus bloom—

  Will dance to thunders echoing in the caverns' room.

  XLV

  Thence to Skin River, so called because it flowed forth from a mountain of cattle carcasses, offered in sacrifice by the pious emperor Rantideva .

  Adore the reed-born god and speed away,

  While Siddhas flee, lest rain should put to shame

  The lutes which they devoutly love to play;

  But pause to glorify the stream whose name

  Recalls the sacrificing emperor's blessed fame.

  XLVI

  Narrow the river seems from heaven's blue;

  And gods above, who see her dainty line

  Matched, when thou drinkest, with thy darker hue,

  Will think they see a pearly necklace twine

  Round Earth, with one great sapphire in its midst ashine.

  XLVII

  The province of the Ten Cities .

  Beyond, the province of Ten Cities lies

  Whose women, charming with their glances rash,

  Will view thine image with bright, eager eyes,

  Dark eyes that dance beneath the lifted lash,

  As when black bees round nodding jasmine-blossoms flash.

  XLVIII

  The Hallowed Land, where were fought the awful battles of the ancient epic time .

  Then veil the Hallowed Land in cloudy shade;

  Visit the field where to this very hour

  Lie bones that sank beneath the soldier's blade,

  Where Arjuna discharged his arrowy shower

  On men, as thou thy rain-jets on the lotus-flower.

  XLIX

  In these battles, the hero Balarama, whose weapon was a plough-share, would take no part, because kinsmen of his were fighting in each army. He preferred to spend the time in drinking from the holy river Sarasvati, though little accustomed to any other drink than wine .

  Sweet friend, drink where those holy waters shine

  Which the plough-bearing hero—loath to fight

  His kinsmen—rather drank than sweetest wine

  With a loving bride's reflected eyes alight;

  Then, though thy form be black, thine inner soul is bright.

  L

  The Ganges River, which originates in heaven. Its fall is broken by the head of Shiva, who stands on the Himalaya Mountains; otherwise the shock would be too great for the earth. But Shiva's goddess-bride is displeased .

  Fly then where Ganges o'er the king of mountains

  Falls like a flight of stairs from heaven let down

  For the sons of men; she hurls her billowy fountains

  Like hands to grasp the moon on Shiva's crown

  And laughs her foamy laugh at Gauri's jealous frown.

  LI

  The dark cloud is permitted to mingle with the clear stream of Ganges, as the muddy Jumna River does near the city now called Allahabad .

  If thou, like some great elephant of the sky,

  Shouldst wish from heaven's eminence to bend

  And taste the crystal stream, her beauties high—

  As thy dark shadows with her whiteness blend—

  Would be what Jumna's waters at Prayaga lend.

  LII

  The magnificent Himalaya range .

  Her birth-place is Himalaya's rocky crest

  Whereon the scent of musk is never lost,

  For deer rest ever there where thou wilt rest

  Sombre against the peak with whiteness glossed,

  Like dark earth by the snow-white bull of Shiva tossed.

  LIII

  If, born from friction of the deodars,

  A scudding fire should prove the mountain's bane,

  Singeing the tails of yaks with fiery stars,

  Quench thou the flame with countless streams of rain—

  The great have power that they may soothe distress and pain.

  LIV

  If mountain monsters should assail thy path

  With angry leaps that of their object fail,

  Only to hurt themselves in helpless wrath,

  Scatter the creatures with thy pelting hail—

  For who is not despised that strives without avail?

  LV

  Bend lowly down and move in reverent state

  Round Shiva's foot-print on the rocky plate

  With offerings laden by the saintly great;

  The sight means heaven as their eternal fate

  When death and sin are past, for them that faithful wait.

  LVI

  The breeze is piping on the bamboo-tree;

  And choirs of heaven sing in union sweet

  O'er demon foe of Shiva's victory;

  If thunders in the caverns drumlike beat,

  Then surely Shiva's symphony will be complete.

  LVII

  The mountain pass called the Swan-gate .

  Pass by the wonders of the snowy slope;

  Through the Swan-gate, through mountain masses rent

  To make his fame a path by Bhrigu's hope

  In long, dark beauty fly, still northward bent,

  Like Vishnu's foot, when he sought the demon's chastisement.

  LVIII

  And at Mount Kailasa, the long journey is ended ;

  Seek then Kailasa's hospitable care,

  With peaks by magic arms asunder riven,

  To whom, as mirror, goddesses repair,

  So lotus-bright his summits cloud the heaven,

  Like form and substance to God's daily laughter given.

  LIX

  Like powder black and soft I seem to see

  Thine outline on the mountain slope as bright

  As new-sawn tusks of stainless ivory;

  No eye could wink before as fair a sight

  As dark-blue robes upon the Ploughman's shoulder white.

  LX

  Should Shiva throw his serpent-ring aside

  And give Gauri his hand, go thou before

  Upon the mount of joy to be their guide;

  Conceal within thee all thy watery store

  And seem a terraced stairway to the jewelled floor.

  LXI

  I doubt not that celestia
l maidens sweet

  With pointed bracelet gems will prick thee there

  To make of thee a shower-bath in the heat;

  Frighten the playful girls if they should dare

  To keep thee longer, friend, with thunder's harshest blare.

  LXII

  Drink where the golden lotus dots the lake;

  Serve Indra's elephant as a veil to hide

  His drinking; then the tree of wishing shake,

  Whose branches like silk garments flutter wide:

  With sports like these, O cloud, enjoy the mountain side

  LXIII

  for on this mountain is the city of the Yakshas .

  Then, in familiar Alaka find rest,

  Down whom the Ganges' silken river swirls,

  Whose towers cling to her mountain lover's breast,

  While clouds adorn her face like glossy curls

  And streams of rain like strings of close-inwoven pearls.

  LATTER CLOUD

  I

  The splendid heavenly city Alaka ,

  Where palaces in much may rival thee—

  Their ladies gay, thy lightning's dazzling powers—

  Symphonic drums, thy thunder's melody—

  Their bright mosaic floors, thy silver showers—

  Thy rainbow, paintings, and thy height, cloud-licking towers.

  II

  where the flowers which on earth blossom at different seasons, are all found in bloom the year round .

  Where the autumn lotus in dear fingers shines,

  And lodh-flowers' April dust on faces rare,

  Spring amaranth with winter jasmine twines

  In women's braids, and summer siris fair,

  The rainy madder in the parting of their hair.

  III

  Here grows the magic tree which yields whatever is desired .

  Where men with maids whose charm no blemish mars

  Climb to the open crystal balcony

  Inlaid with flower-like sparkling of the stars,

  And drink the love-wine from the wishing-tree,

  And listen to the drums' deep-thundering dignity.

  IV

  Where maidens whom the gods would gladly wed

  Are fanned by breezes cool with Ganges' spray

  In shadows that the trees of heaven spread;

  In golden sands at hunt-the-pearl they play,

  Bury their little fists, and draw them void away.

  V

  Where lovers' passion-trembling fingers cling

  To silken robes whose sashes flutter wide,

  The knots undone; and red-lipped women fling,

  Silly with shame, their rouge from side to side.

  Hoping in vain the flash of jewelled lamps to hide.

  VI

  Where, brought to balconies' palatial tops

  By ever-blowing guides, were clouds before

  Like thee who spotted paintings with their drops;

  Then, touched with guilty fear, were seen no more,

  But scattered smoke-like through the lattice' grated door.

  VII

  Here are the stones from which drops of water ooze when the moon shines on them .

  Where from the moonstones hung in nets of thread

  Great drops of water trickle in the night—

  When the moon shines clear and thou, O cloud, art fled—

  To ease the languors of the women's plight

  Who lie relaxed and tired in love's embraces tight.

  VIII

  Here are the magic gardens of heaven .

  Where lovers, rich with hidden wealth untold,

  Wander each day with nymphs for ever young,

  Enjoy the wonders that the gardens hold,

  The Shining Gardens, where the praise is sung

  Of the god of wealth by choirs with love-impassioned tongue.

  IX

  Where sweet nocturnal journeys are betrayed

  At sunrise by the fallen flowers from curls

  That fluttered as they stole along afraid,

  By leaves, by golden lotuses, by pearls,

  By broken necklaces that slipped from winsome girls.

  X

  Here the god of love is not seen, because of the presence of his great enemy, Shiva. Yet his absence is not severely felt .

  Where the god of love neglects his bee-strung bow,

  Since Shiva's friendship decks Kubera's reign;

  His task is done by clever maids, for lo!

  Their frowning missile glances, darting plain

  At lover-targets, never pass the mark in vain.

  XI

  Here the goddesses have all needful ornaments. For the Mine of Sentiment declares: "Women everywhere have four kinds of ornaments—hair-ornaments, jewels, clothes, cosmetics; anything else is local ."

  Where the wishing-tree yields all that might enhance

  The loveliness of maidens young and sweet:

  Bright garments, wine that teaches eyes to dance,

  And flowering twigs, and rarest gems discrete,

  And lac-dye fit to stain their pretty lotus-feet.

  XII

  And here is the home of the unhappy Yaksha ,

  There, northward from the master's palace, see

  Our home, whose rainbow-gateway shines afar;

  And near it grows a little coral-tree,

  Bending 'neath many a blossom's clustered star,

  Loved by my bride as children of adoption are.

  XIII

  with its artificial pool ;

  A pool is near, to which an emerald stair

  Leads down, with blooming lotuses of gold

  Whose stalks are polished beryl; resting there,

  The wistful swans are glad when they behold

  Thine image, and forget the lake they loved of old.

  XIV

  its hill of sport, girdled by bright hedges, like the dark cloud girdled by the lightening ;

  And on the bank, a sapphire-crested hill

  Round which the golden plantain-hedges fit;

  She loves the spot; and while I marvel still

  At thee, my friend, as flashing lightnings flit

  About thine edge, with restless rapture I remember it.

  XV

  its two favourite trees, which will not blossom while their mistress is grieving ;

  The ashoka-tree, with sweetly dancing lines,

  The favourite bakul-tree, are near the bower

  Of amaranth-engirdled jasmine-vines;

  Like me, they wait to feel the winning power

  Of her persuasion, ere they blossom into flower.

  XVI

  its tame peacock ;

  A golden pole is set between the pair,

  With crystal perch above its emerald bands

  As green as young bamboo; at sunset there

  Thy friend, the blue-necked peacock, rises, stands,

  And dances when she claps her bracelet-tinkling hands.

  XVII

  and its painted emblems of the god of wealth .

  These are the signs—recall them o'er and o'er,

  My clever friend—by which the house is known,

  And the Conch and Lotus painted by the door:

  Alas! when I am far, the charm is gone—

  The lotus' loveliness is lost with set of sun.

  XVIII

  Small as the elephant cub thou must become

  For easy entrance; rest where gems enhance

  The glory of the hill beside my home,

  And peep into the house with lightning-glance,

  But make its brightness dim as fireflies' twinkling dance.

  XIX

  The Yaksha's bride .

  The supremest woman from God's workshop gone—

  Young, slender; little teeth and red, red lips,

  Slight waist and gentle eyes of timid fawn,

  An idly graceful movement, generous hips,

  Fair bosom into which the sloping shoulde
r slips—

  XX

  Like a bird that mourns her absent mate anew

  Passing these heavy days in longings keen,

  My girlish wife whose words are sweet and few,

  My second life, shall there of thee be seen—