Ah, this soft night torments me,
Thinking that his faithless arms—
Yami hê kam sharanam!—
Clasp some shadow of my charms.
Fatal shadow—foolish mock!
When the great love shone confessed;—
Yami hê kam sharanam!
Krishna's lotus loads my breast;
'Tis too heavy, lacking him;
Like a broken flower I am—
Necklets, jewels, what are ye?
Yami hê kam sharanam!
Yami hê kam sharanam!
The sky is still, the forest sleeps;
Krishna forgets—he loves no more;
He fails in faith, and Radha weeps.
But the poet Jayadev—
He who is great Hari's slave,
He who finds asylum sweet
Only at great Hari's feet;
He who for your comfort sings
All this to the Vina's strings—
Prays that Radha's tender moan
In your hearts be thought upon,
And that all her holy grace
Live there like the loved one's face.
Yet, if I wrong him! (sang she)—can he fail?
Could any in the wood win back his kisses?
Could any softest lips of earth prevail
To hold him from my arms? any love-blisses
Blind him once more to mine? O Soul, my prize!
Art thou not merely hindered at this hour?
Sore-wearied, wandering, lost? how otherwise
Shouldst thou not hasten to the bridal-bower?
But seeing far away that Maiden come
Alone, with eyes cast down and lingering steps,
Again a little while she feared to hear
Of Krishna false; and her quick thoughts took shape
In a fine jealousy, with words like these—
Something then of earth has held him
From his home above,
Some one of those slight deceivers—
Ah, my foolish love!
Some new face, some winsome playmate,
With her hair untied,
And the blossoms tangled in it,
Woos him to her side.