XLI.
Rādhā: O maiden, dearest maiden, do not lead me to him,
Too young am I, and he is a burning lover:
My heart is shaken, going to his side,—
The amorous bee will spring upon the lotus.
The muslin hides my harmless body
Like wimpling waters of a lily-lake:
Oh Mother mine, how creatures suffer pain!
What Power shaped the wicked Night?
Says Vidyāpati: What is befitting now?
Who cannot tell when it is dawn?
XLII.
Sakhī: Her gentle words she can but stammer,
Her shamefast speech will not well out:
To-day I found her most contrary,
Sometimes consenting, sometimes fearful.
At any word of dalliance, she tightly shuts her eyes,
For she has caught a glimpse of the great sea of Love:
At kissing-time she turns her face away,—
The moon has taken the lotus on his lap!
Stricken with terror if her zone be touched, the shining maiden
Knows that Madan's treasury is being rifled.
Her clothes are disarrayed, she hides her bosom with her arms,—
The jewels are exposed, and yet she knots her garment!
What is Vidyāpati to think, forsooth?
For at the moment of embrace, she flies the bed!