My thoughts were set upon her breasts,
Love lay waking in my heart.
Her voice was ringing in my ears:
I would have gone, my feet refused to move.
The bonds of hope constrain me yet:
Love is a tide, says Vidyāpati.
V.
Krishna: Fair-face, red brow-spot, there-behind the heavy jet-black hair—
As if the sun and moon together rising left the night behind.
Ah damsel fair! with what and what devoted care,
Has Nature given to you the utmost beauty of the moon.
A grass green bodice binds your breasts, a glimpse is only seen;
So jealously you cover them,—but never snow may hide the hills!
Dark sūrm decks your curving restless eyes.
As if the bees would rest their weight upon some wind-bent lotus.
Hearken, young thing, says Vidyāpati; these charms, you know them all,—
Witness be Rājā Shivasimha Rūpanārāyana and Lakshmī Devī.
VI.
Krishna: She left the shrine at cowdust-time, passing gliding
Like a flash of lightning mated with a fresh cloud.