Shall not these fair verses swell
The number of the wise who dwell
In the realm of Kama's bliss?
Jayadeva prayeth this,
Jayadev, the bard of Love,
Servant of the Gods above.
For all so strong in Heaven itself
Is Love, that Radha sits drooping there,
Her beautiful bosoms panting with thought,
And the braids drawn back from her ear.
And—angel albeit—her rich lips breathe
Sighs, if sighs were ever so sweet;
And—if spirits can tremble—she trembles now
From forehead to jewelled feet.
And her voice of music sinks to a sob,
And her eyes, like eyes of a mated roe,
Are tender with looks of yielded love,
With dreams dreamed long ago;
Long—long ago, but soon to grow truth,
To end, and be waking and certain and true;
Of which dear surety murmur her lips,
As the lips of sleepers do:
And, dreaming, she loosens her girdle-pearls,
And opens her arms to the empty air,
Then starts, if a leaf of the champâk falls,
Sighing, "O leaf! Is he there?"
Why dost thou linger in this dull spot,
Haunted by serpents and evil for thee?
Why not hasten to Nanda's House?
It is plain, if thine eyes could see.
May these words of high endeavour—
Full of grace and gentle favour—
Find out those whose hearts can feel
What the message did reveal,
Words that Radha's messenger
Unto Krishna took from her,
Slowly guiding him to come
Through the forest to his home,
Guiding him to find the road
Which led—though long—to Love's abode.
(Here ends that Sarga of the Gîta Govinda entitled
Dhrishtavaikunto.)