Beloved, what pride is this of yours?
Encumbered clouds have brought the Monsoon,
and the blossoming of Kadam flowers.
From Mathura, four Kahaars have brought the palanquin.
(But)
(He) Didn't come, didn't come:
The deeply colored,
Saffron-skinned; lover of mine
(Didn't come)
My courtyard is left silent and mundane, deserted.
Beloved, what pride is this of yours?
(That causes you to do this?)
You have shed and let flow water from your own eyes,
You made for yourself: your very own river Jamuna, thus.
And bathed in it a hundred thousand times.
Still, your bath just doesn't finish;
(it seems purposeless)
(Even at the end)
Dry hair, an unkempt facade
Heart lifeless.
(Your sins will never be washed away)
Beloved, what pride is this of yours?
I beseech you friend,
Tell me, why should I dress up?
No more do I want to wear bangles or necklaces.
(I want only to)
Only cover my body with sandalwood,
Sandalwood is akin poison.
No comments:
Post a Comment