CVII.
Rādhā: There is no limit to my woe, my dear!
O heavy rains of autumn-tide,
My house is empty!
Impenetrable clouds are thundering unceasingly,
And all the world is full of rain:
Kānta is a stone, and Love is cruel,
A rain of arrows pierces me.
A hundred flashes blind my eyes,
The peacock dances in an ecstasy:
The happy frogs but croak and croak,
My heart is bursting.
Utter darkness, night impenetrable,
Unbroken line of lightning:
Vidyāpati says: How may you pass
The day and night alone?
CVIII.
Rādhā: Who says that Mādhava will come, my friend?
How can I ever cross the sea of longing?
I have no faith within my heart!
Expectant every moment, I pass the livelong day,
Expectant day by day, a month goes by:
Expectant every month, I pass the year,
I have forsaken all hope in life.
Expectant every year, I pass my life
Wasting my flesh with hopes:
If the lotus die of the winter moon,
What shall avail in the spring?
If the flower be scorched by the summer sun,
What shall avail the autumn rains?
If I waste in longing this fresh young life,
What shall avail my Lover's love?