Rādhā: 'What can I say, my dear, of Kāna's love—
The roothless root of every virtue?
Touching His flute He makes a hundred vows
But even then I cannot trust Him.
'Renewed embraces: kissing me upon His lap,
He makes protest of loyalty!
But He has spent the night beside some other girl,
And emptied me of hope.
'In something more than fire my body burns
I see the seal of Rati on every limb.'
Life may expire, says Vidyāpati,
And yet you will not mix with Hari!
LXXIV.
Rādhā: Hearken, prithee, heartless Hari,
Fie on your such love!
Why did you speak of keeping tryst,
And with another maiden spent the night?
You make pretence of love for Rāi,
And dally with another girl:
Who says brave Kānu is best of lovers?
No such another fool is in the world.
Refusing ruby, you seek for glass,
Leaving an lake of nectar, you long for brine,
Forsaking a sea of curds, to wanton in a well,—
Fie on your amorous blandishment!
Vidyāpati the lord of poets avows:
Rādhā will never look upon your face again.
LXXV.
Rādhā: Thirsting for fragrance I flew to the flower
But never I came the near,
I saw not a drop of the ocean of honey,
And now the people mock me.