Sakhī: Shyāma sitting in his pride
Speaks of the night's delights:
'She is the beauteous sweet-faced Rāi,
With rapture I received her in my inmost heart.
'How many ways she kissed me,
Laughing light and low in gladness,
Diversely disporting,
My dream of delight.
'How nectar-sweet her words,
Eyebrows arching, wanton glances,
Damsel waking in my heart's core.'
This is first love, says Vidyāpati.
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!