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T H E F E A T H E R O F T H E D A W N
DU l u ^ o[litaivi6u
Courtesy: National Library
Facsimile reproduction of a draft of The Night of Martyrdom in the poet's hand
S A R O J I N I N A I D U
The Feather of the
Dawn
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Date: ^ \-%A
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ASIA PUBLISHING HOUi
BOMBAY • CALCUTTA • NEW DELHI
MADRAS • LONDON • NEW YORK
^BSSBOO^d
CENTRAL LIBRARY A.P- Agricultural University.
HYL)EUABAD-500Q30
PADMAJA NAIDU
1961
The poems collected in this volume were written in July-August 1927 and have not been previously published
ANGRAU
891.44 N61SAR
Ace No. 19876
P R I N T E D I N I N D I A
BY P. C. RAY, AT SRJ GOURANGA PRESS PRIVATE LTD., 5 , CHINTAMANI DAS LANE, CALCUTTA-9 AND PuBUSHED BY P. S. JAVASINGHE, ASIA PUBLlSfflNG HOUsE, BOMBAY
CONTENTS
IN GOKHALE'S GARBEN • 1
LOKMANYA TiLAK 3
U M A R 4
GujERAT 5
T H E NIGHT OF MARTYRDOM 6
T H E FESTIVAL OF THE SEA 7
Fishermen 7 Sailors 7 Merchants 8 Women of Sea-faring Folk 8
RAKSHA BANDHAN " 10
A PERSIAN LUTE SONG 11
A SONG OF THE KHYBER PASS 12
SPRING IN KASHMIR 14
T H E GLORIOSA LILY 16
T H E WATER HYACINTH 17
CHILD FANCIES 18
THE BIRD SANCTUARY 19
T H E LONELY CHIL^C»»—>"—.. 20
MIMICRY V N > ^ ' ^ "^ ^ \ 2 2
PERPLEXT . , , ? ^ ^ ^ " ^ ^_j"* 21
O N JUHU S ^ ^ ^ r •' " '"*"' . ' '23 T H E GIFT j ' JJ f \ ^ ' ' ' ^
T H E A M U I ^ T ^ I n . \ • • • ' " " "25
BLIND \ ' ' ^ ^ \ >: ^ - • • '' .27
DEVOTION 28
UNITY 29
£NTREATY 30
Rffi>roNCIATION 31
CONQUEST 32
IMMUTABLE 34-
POEMS O F KRISHNA
KANHAYA 37
GHANASHYAM 39
SONGS OF RADHA 40
At Dawn 40 At Dusk 41 The Quest 42
The title of this hook of poems is from a dance by the DENISHAWN DANCERS based on the Hopi Indian legend that a feather blown into the air at dawn, if caught by a breeze and carried out of sight, marks the opening of an auspicious day.
IN GOKHALE'S GARDEN
With crystal rods the necromantic rain Touches dead loveliness to life again, Revives on withered meads and barren rocks Pastures and gleaming pools for wandering flocks. And sows wet fields with red and ivory grain.
in your sweet garden where I walked with you, The rain has wrought its wizardry anew With silver jasmine, golden champak stars. Small coral-stemmed, pearl-petalled harsingars, Bakul and flowering neem of lilac hue.
Steadfast^ serene, dauntless, supremely wise. In earth's renascent bloom with prescient eyes You sought hope's symbol and you strove to teach My heart with patient, high, prophetic speech The parable of Beauty's brave emprise. J^r^OF Tf^
The fragile forms of beauty perish, stilV ( j '^ p^r,., ^ • Endiires her proud, imperishable wiU l ^' i [ i j ^ - v
r ^ ^ R . i 1.. \ •: V . . - A N .
• • ^ \ ^ / • .
v.;' ' • ^.y ^//
Gopal Krishna Gokhale was the great saint and soldier of our national righteousness. His life was a sacrament and his death was a sacrifice in the cause of Indian unity.
^ [ 1 ]
In myriad shapes and songs to be reborn Age unto age, from morn to splendid morn. Her destiny, her purpose to fulfil.
Your ashes lie in old Pryag, but we, Heirs of your spirit's immortality. Find in your vision Love's perpetual flame Of adoration lit in Freedom's name, Rekindling all our dream of liberty.
[ 2 ]
LOKMANYA TILAK
How shall our mortal love commemorate Your sovereign grandeur, O victorious heart? Changeless, austere, your famej is,counterpart Of your own storied hills, inviolate. Your proud immortal deeds irraaiate The darkness of our land, and star-like dart The lustre of your wisdom, valour, art. Transfiguring sorrow and transcendmg Fate.
Hail dauntless soldier, hail intrepid sage Who taught our nation Freedom's Gayatril Immutable from the redeeming flame Your ashes are our children's heritage, And aU the epic rhythms of the sea Chant your triumphant and undying name.
Bal Gangadhar Tilak, known as "Lokmanya" (Revered by the People), was a scholar, mathematician and saint who, at a time when to utter the word "Freedom" was treason, inspired the whole nation by his clarion call—"Freedom is ifiy birth-right and I will attain it".
[ 3 ]
UMAR
You were not of my kindred or my creed, 0 kingly heart, but closer still you stood In gracious bond of tender brotherhood Than they who blossomed from my father's seed. Alas! What bitter destiny decreed I, who had stilled the fierce, blind fanged brood Of pain that mocked your proud, sad solitude. Should be afar in your dire, ultimate need?
1 stand beside your narrow resting place, I call and call, you will not answer me. Does the earth lie too heavy on your face. Or is the silence of your year-long sleep Too dear, too incorruptible, too deep For friendship, pardon, grief or memory?
Umar Sobani (died 6th July, 1926) a milliouaixe philanthropist of Bombay, was one of the first Muslim nationalists to join Mahatma Gandhi when he launched his Civil Disobedience Movement.
[ 4 ]
GUJERAT
Stay the relentless anger of Thy hand. Thine awful war, O Lord, no longer wage Against our hapless hearts and heritage, Nor rend with ravening doom our ancient land. Can'st Thou our children's agony withstand. Or shall mute, famished, faultless lips assuage The tumult and the terror of Thy rage And stiU the tempests of Thy dire command?
Why comest Thou thus in such black dread disguise? How shall it profit Thee or how avail To wreck the faith of our unknowing eyes? Cease lest Thy maddened creatures turn from Thee And in the midnight of deep wild travail Mock Thee with mouths of bitter blasphemy.
This poem was composed on the disastrous flood in 1927 in Gujerat.
[ 5 ]
THE NIGHT OF MARTYRDOM
Blackrobed, barefooted, with dim eye? that rain Wild tears in memory of thy woeful plight, And hands that in blind, rhythmic anguish smite Their bloodstained bosoms to a sad refrain From the old haunting legend of thy pain. Thy votaries mourn thee through the tragic night With mystic dirge and melancholy rite. Crying aloud on thee—Hussain! Hussain!
Why do thy myriad lovers so lament?
The living banner and brave covenant Of the high creed thy Prophet did proclaim. Bequeathing for the world's beatitude Th' enduring loveliness of Allah's name?
On the ninth of the mourning month of Moharni™, Muslims of the Shia community commemorate the tragic martyrdom of Ali and Hassan and Hussain.
[ 6 ]
THE-FESTIVAL OF THE SEA
FISHERMEN
Suppliant we bow to thee, Bountiful Mother Sea,
With fruit of the earth thy pure mercy we hail For our new toil and task Thy fostering care we ask
Blessing for raft and oar, rudder and saU.
FUl thou our heaving net With living harvests yet
Warm from the green floating groves of thy tides. Grant to us corn and coin. Vigour of limb and loin.
Peace to our palm huts and sons to our brides.
SAILORS
Radiant and magical mistress we greet thee, Thine is the breast, thine the beauty we crave. Clasp us again close, Eel6v'd, we entreat thee. Hungry are we for thy wind and thy wave.
Narieli Purnima or Coconut Day is a festival of the people of Western India who live by the sea and prosper by it. On this day, which marks the end of the monsoon and the beginning of the fishing season, fishermen, traders, pilgrims and their womenfolk all pay homage to the sea—the repository of treasure—^by offering the auspicious coconuts to it.
[ 7 ]
Thou art our meadow of bliss and our cavern 0£ dreams, thou our blossoming garden of foam. The field of our battle, our temple and tavern, Our bier and our bride-bed, our haven and home.
MERCHANTS
Wondrous Queen, bright gifts we proffer, Thy protection to implore. Be thou the refulgent coffer Of aU garnered treasure store.
Safe from piracy from peril Of wind-pinioned storms enfold, , Riches of rare jade and beryl. Silk and sandalwood and gold.
Thou of our lowly prayer proud claimant Grant propitious gales for boon! Thou who hast the dawn f OP raiment And for diadem the moon!
WOMEN OF SEA-FAEING FOLK
Our tribute and our tears to thee we render, Dread, sweet, compassionate Woman and Goddess unsurpassed in splendour. Terror and love and hate.
[ 8 ]
We worship thee with chaplets of devotion, Cherish our dear desire, And guard the hves we yield thee, sacred Ocean, Lover and son and sire.
From folly and from fear our hearts deliver. Set from all sorrow free. Of joy and grief and hope, O triune giver, Lakshmi, Chundee, Sarasvati.
[ 9 ]
RAKSHA BANDHAN
Beloved I offer to you In tender allegiance anew, A bracelet of floss. Let me twist Its tassels, vermilion and blue And violet, to girdle your wrist.
Accept this bright gage from my. hand. Let your heart its sweet speech understand. The ancient high symbol and end Inwrought on each gold-threaded strand. The fealty of friend unto friend.
A garland how fraU of design, Our spirits to clasp and entwine In devotion unstained and unbroken. How slender a circle and sign Of secret, deep pledges unspoken!
On Raksha. Bandhan Day, following an ancient Kajput custom, Hindu women tie bracelets of gold-twined silk on the wrists of their brothers and those they adopt as their brothers.
[ 10]
A PERSIAN LUTE SONG
0_ budded garlands I forbid Your beauty to unclose In pyramid on pyramid Of ivory and .rose. Sweet stars in drift on shining drift. Weave not your dance too soon. Be not too sudden or too swift To rise, O glimmering moon.
I pray you singing girls refrain From music and be mute, O laughing Flute-player restrain The rapture of your flute. And watch with me, not yet hath rung The golden hour, not yet Comes he for whom the lutes are strung. For whom the feast is set.
Who holds my trembling heart in thrall Whose name I may not name. His voice is like a battle-call. His eyes a beacon flame. His vital hands command and keep The issues of my fate. With power tenderer than sleep. More terrible than hate.
[ 1 1 ]
A SONG OF THE KHYBER PASS
Wolves of the mountains. Hawks of the hills. We live or perish As Allah vi ills.
Two gifts for our portion We ask thee, O Fate, A maiden to cherish, A kinsman to hate.
Children of danger. Comrades of death, The wild scene of battle Is breath of our breath.
More bright than the scarlet On dawn-clouds displayed, Is the colour of life-blood That gleams on our blade.
More lovely than cymbals That sound from the plain.
[ 12 ]
The wail of shrill dirges Bemoaning the slain.
Yet sweet in the dusk hour When conflict hath ceased. When red feuds are sated And honour appeased,
In the star-scattered stillness And fragrance of night, To find for a pillow Twin moons of delight.
To find for a curtain A tent of dar t tresses. And crowning our valour A wreath of caresses.
Wolves of the mountains, Hawks of the hills. We live or perish As Allah' wills.
[ 1 3 ]
SPRING IN KASHMIR
Heart O my heart, hear the Springtime is calling, With her laughter, her music, her beauty enthralling.
Thro' glade and thro' glen her winged feet let us follow,' In the wake of the oriole, the sunbird and swallow.
What guerdon more meet for us, wandering singers. Than the fragrance that falls from her luminous fingers?
Lo! how she bends on the emerald grasses, To scatter sweet iris in dim, purple masses.
Now she hangs fragile nests in a tent of green sedges. Now she pipes to the wild fawn on steep, rocky iedges.
Remote, O my heart, from the world's poignant clamour. Let us drink with the Spring from the .deep pools of
glamour.
And hearken at noon to ,the jubilant paean. The mountain streams chant* from gay aeon to aeon.
[ 14]
And witness at dusk when the moon holds high session. Star legions go by in. a joyous procession.
What, O my heart, though tomorrow be tragic. Today is inwoven of rapture and magic.
« If Spring grant us but one rich tulip for token. Shall we fear if on Fortune's blind wheel we are broken?
[15]
THE GLORIOSA LILY
Sweet are the sylvan glades you wreathe, Low branch and bole and root. In clear festoons of flame you sheathe With tangled sparks the foot Of flowering teak and tamarind Whose leaves commemorate the wind.
Even the dawn's arrested gaze Grows envious to behold Hid in sequestered, shadowy ways His crimson and his gold In such fantastic rays illume The dim, enchanted forest gloom.
Who lit your clustering lanterns, all In fringed fire to make Rosered and amber carnival In woodland bower and brake, And lure the purple inoth to scorch Her rich wings at your blossoming torch?
[ 16]
THE WATER HYACINTH
Magical, mistpurple, pale, In alluring splendour spread, Snaring pool and riverhead In your perilous and fraU Farflung, subtly painted veil.
How you revel in your trade Wanton water hyacinth! Like a fatal labyrinth Is your loveliness displayed, Death in Beauty's masquerade.
Soft, relentless, delicate Vampire legion ravaging Wave and every waveborn thing. Like a winged, insidious fate Exquisite, insatiate.
Dread illusion of delight. Nought survives the stifling bliss Of your sweet, perfidious kiss. Your caresses scatter blight And drain proud waters of their might.
[17]
CHILD FANCIES
When I put you in the earth, Poppyseed, poppyseed,
I wonder are you cold, are you lonely, do you need A little glowworm spark Near your cradle in the dark
Till you fall asleep and dream yourself A flower, poppyseed?
When the silver sunbeams call. Dragonfly, dragonfly.
To bumble bees and humming birds, I woncler are you shy In such a crowd to spread Your wings of green and red,
And go gathering lotus honey From the pools, dragonfly?
When you reach the shining blue, Ababeel, Ababeel,
Do you touch the stars behind the clouds, do you feel Brave enough to talk, With the eagle and the hawk,
Tho' you're only just a tiny speck Of life, Ababeel?
[ 18]
THE BIRD SANCTUARY
In your quiet garden wakes a magic tumult Of winged choristers that keep the Festival of Dawn, Blithely rise the carols in richly cadenced rapture, From lyric throats of amber, of ebony and fawn.
The bulbul and the oriole, the honey-bird and shama Flit among high boughs that drip with nectar and with dew, Upon the grass the wandering gull parades its sea-washed silver. The hoopoe and the kingfisher their bronze and sapphire blue.
Wild gray pigeons dreaming of a home amid the tree-tops, FiU their beaks with silken down and slender banyan twigs. But the jade-green gipsy parrots are only gay maurauders. And pause upon their sun-ward flight to plunder red ripe figs.
In your gracious garden there is joy and fostering freedom. Nesting place and singing space for every feathered thing, O Master of the Birds, grant sanctuary and shelter Also to a homing bird that bears a broken wing.
[19 ]
THE LONELY CHILD
Silver star, 0 will you be my mother? Will you stay with me And kiss me in the black night when I cry?
Laughing wind, 1 want you for a brother. WiU you play with me And tell me stories of the sea and sky?
Sometimes, O wind, You know I am so lonely ; 0 star, I am afraid Of sounds and creeping shadows on the wall
God, they say Loves little children, only 1 wish that He had made Someone to love me and to hear me call.
Birds and bees And flowers have one another. The lambkin and the lark The grey mouse and the squirrel and the deer
Does God forget How much I want a mother To hold me in the dark And whisper lovely secrets in my ear?
[ 2 0 ]
PERPLEXT
Love I am sorely vext. Ne'er shall I understand Why the beauty of the land, The sky, the wind, the sea, Forever finds pretext To keep my soul perplext With such subtle mimicry.
The wild sarisha's bloom Holds your ambrosial breath. The sea-wave borroweth Your deep tones to entrance My heart. The stars illume Night's hyacinthine gloom With the glory of your glance.
The zephyrs stir my hair With your sudden rare caress. Your spirit's loveliness Is mirrored in the flame And when I bend in prayer. Love, all the vibrant air Re-echoes with your name.
[21]
MIMICRY
O Spring how you grieve me! Would you deceive me with praise of your fragile
Miraculous art? Where did you copy
Your tulip and poppy if not from the red-flowering Wounds in my heart?
Who set the sweet fashion Of lyrical passion and taught your winged songsters
Their trebles and trills Of high haunting beauty?
Who trained to the duty of laughing adventure Your rivers and rills?
Who lent the bright cluster Of Pleiades their lustre, the hills their soft hue
Like wild lilac in bloom? Are you beholden '
To none for the golden, rich pattern that jewels The wood pheasant's plume?
O Spring I have caught you! Who would have thought you a traitor denying
My script and my scroll. Whereby you moulded
And subtly enfolded your world in the dyes And the dreams of my soul?
[ 2 2 ]
ON JUHU SANDS
Under the palms on sea-wet sands Half drowsy I recline. How comes upon my foam-kissed hands The scent of mountain pine?
The sea-waves fashion for my ear Translucent melodies. How strange ray heart can only hear The murmuring mountain breeze!
Idly I gather gieamiDg shells And drifting seaweed plumes. But my heart dreams in hidden dells Where wild narcissus blooms.
On the sea's breast the young moonrise Falls like a golden rose, But my heart gazes with your eyes On the far mountain snows.
[ 2 3 ]
THE GIFT
What gift hath Fate more gracious or more tender^ What guerdon to transcend In sweetness or in mystery and splendour, My gift to you, my Friend?
Have I not poured my Ufe in proud hbation Like pure vermilion wine. And swung the censers of my adoration Sleepless before your shrine.
And of my days made a mellifluous paean To you who dwell apart In the untrod, enchanted empyrean Of my surrendered heart?
[ 2 4 ]
THE AMULET
Beloved take my eyes with you Jewel-wise, and set Their beauty on your heart to be A living amulet.
They shall be your torch to slay The dark with steadfast beams. They shall be your stars to keep Soft vigil o'er your dreams.
They shall be your harvesters To reap for your delight The amaranth meadows of the dawn. The hyacinth fields of night.
My eyes shall be your questing birds Proudly to sally forth For tidings from the rich, red South And from the fierce, gray North.
They shall be your sheathless swords With Freedom's rune inscroUed,
[25 ]
J H - 7 C
Your pure relentless crucibles To test your spirit'-s gold.
My eyes shall burn like beacon fires To guard your battle camps, And light your secret sanctuaries With quenchless altar lamps.
Beloved, take my eyes with you Jewel-wise, and set Their beauty on your heart to be A living amulet.
[ 2 6 ]
BLIND
I pray you keep my eyes Till I return one day to Paradise. Bereaved of you. Beloved, I am blind, A broken petal drifting on the wind, A sightless Shama with a broken wing, Forlornly wandering.
0 Love, how shall I know If Spring has kindled the high limpid snow Into rich crucibles of amethyst. Or in far meadows lulled in smoke-grey mist Wild poppies waken to the subtle rune Of the frail pearl-blue moon.
1 shall not see, Alas! Sumptuous and sweet. Life's bridal pageant pass. Or radiant martyr Youth serenely ride, In Death's gay cohorts mailed in dazzling pride. Or mystic hordes assail like storm-tossed seas Time's ageless sanctuaries.
No lambent rays retrieve The brooding dark in which I grope and grieve Exiled, remote from the miraculous grace. The wise compassionate glory of your face. When will you call me back to Paradise Love, to redeem my eyes.
[ 2 7 ]
DEVOTION
I ask thee no reward. Content am I, O Love, Anointed Lord, Unknown to thee to serve, confirm, fulfil, Thy daily word and will.
My dreams unknown to thee Are thy spread carpet and thy canopy. To shield from life's inclement cold or heat Thy forehead and thy feet.
Lo! doth my heart transmute Itself into a subtle silver flute. To hear thy call, to conquer thy distress, Enchant thy weariness.
Though thou art unaware. The ecstasy and anguish of my prayer Hourly redeems from the sharp toll of death Thy fragile human breath.
[ 2 8 ]
UNITY
liove if I knew How to pluck from the mirrors of the dew The image of the sunrise, rob the tint
Of living blood From the wild lily and pomegranate bud, Defraud the halcyon of its purple glint,
The seawind of its wing. The seawave of its silvern shimmering,
If I could teach My meaning to be severed from my speech. Breath from my being, vision from my eyes
And deftly part The tremor of my heartbeat from my heart. Perchance for one vague hour I might devise
Some secret miracle To be redeemed from your sweet, subtle spell.
You perrneate With such supreme, profound and intimate Knowledge, possession, power, my Life's domain!
O are you not The very text and title of my thought. The very pattern of my joy and pain?
Shall even Death set free My soul from such intricate unity?
[ 2 9 ]
ENTREATY
Come not so near, Heart of my hungering heart. Stand one winged arrow's length from me apart. Let one long uncurled tendril of the vine Measure the space between your face and mine.
O Love, I tremble lest my will grow weak, If your deep honey-breath caress my cheek. How shall my sacrificial strength compete Against a foe so deadly and so sweet?
Save me from the keen rapture of your touch. My courage. Love, cannot endure e'en such Light pressure as the zephyrs' kiss that stirs The dream of slumbrous moon-kissed nenuphars.
Lower your eyelids, O my heart's delight. Have mercy on my dimmed and dazzled sight. Go farther from me still. I cannot bear The wandering perfume of your windblown hair. •
Leave me O, Love, in God's compassionate name,^ Ere once again the old, blind, ravening flame Smite me and slay in a consuming sea Of dread desire and bitter ecstasy.
[ 3 0 ]
RENUNCIATION
With rose-lipped laughter and bright-feathered jest We meet and part as happy comrades should. But of my speech! weave a shining hood To veil the hungers that besiege my breast. Yet wait subservient to my will's behest, A mute, leashed, patient, poignant multitude, While my heart gleans the colour of your mood To dye a leaf of memory's palimpsest.
Give nought to me, but to the world, winged words Of Vision, Valour, Faith—like carrier birds Bearing your message o'er all lands and seas. Scatter the lustre of resplendent deeds O'er journeying world winds like immortal seeds Of sheaves enriching Freedom's granaries.
[31
CONQUEST
Life gave me joy and song for dower. Laughter and grace and shining fame, Hope like a forest tree in flower, Dreams with reverberant wings of flame. God troubled in His high domain. Sent you, O Love, from starry spheres With quick and ardent gifts of pairi, To teach me tears, to teach me tears.
You took my chaliced joy and spilt Its honey in the sands of drouth. Stole from my song its silver lilt. Smote lyric laughter on the mouth. You took Fame's beacon torch that threw Worldwide the lustre of its beams. Plucked bare the boughs of hope and slew My winged dreams, my winged dreams.
I stood uncomforted, alone. Amid life's ruined loveliness. Vanquished with woe. From His bright throne, God smiled, beholding my distress. Ruthless, serene, magnificent. You towered above my grief and cried.
[ 32
"I am His chosen instrument To break your pride, to break your pride.
"You whose bold vision flung afar Rich spells of your dominion, Claimed kinship with the morning star, Sought friendship with the midnight sun, Lo, I am he with strength endowed To hold your captive heart in fee . . . Proud heart to which earth's nations bowed Bow down to me, bow down to me ! "
[ 3 3 ]
IMMUTABLE
Love o'er the rose-white alleys That flower on pale desert sands, Love through the rose-red valleys That burgeon in southern lands. In cities ashine with pleasure On the edge of a sea-girt clime. Or mountains whose dim caves treasure The temples of moon-crowned time. On errands of joy or duty. Wherever the ways you tread, A carpet of ageless beauty Is my heart for your feet outspread.
Love, whether Life betray you And the malice of black-winged Fate Shatter your dream and slay you With talons of fear and hate, • Or whether yours the story Of triumph and loneliest fame. And the stars inscribe your glory In lyric and legend of flame. On.errands of joy or duty. Wherever the ways you tread, A carpet of ageless beauty Is my heart for your feet outspread.
34]
POEMS OF KRISHNA
Krishna is the Divine Flute-player of Brindaban, who plays the tune of the Infinite that lures every Hindu heart av^ay from mortal griefs and attachments. He is worshipped in different forms as the Divine Cowherd, the Divine Musician and the Divine Beloved. Kanhaya and Ghanashyam are two of his many names.
KANHAYA
FARMERS: Nanda's wife, Nanda's wife, Kanhaya is a thief,
He climbs our garden walls and strips our orchards, fruit and leaf!
MILKMAIDS: He eats our yellow butter balls and steals our foam-white curds,
PRIESTS : He scatters all the sacred rice to feed the temple birds.
Little Thief! Little Thief! Yashoda took a rope
And tied the errant hands of him who was the Yadu's hope.
VILLAGE GIRLS ;
VILLAGE HEADMEN :
Nanda's wife, Nanda's wife, Kanhaya hides our clothes
And flings our altar offerings to peacocks and to crows.
He trips us on the river-steps and breaks our jars in halves.
He runs with chattering monkey-folk to chase our frightened calves!
Vagabond! Vagabond ! Yashoda took .^i^"- . a cord
And bound the truant feet of him who Was the Yadu's lord.
VILLAGE BOYS: Nanda's wife, Nanda's wife, Kanhaya brawls and boasts
He is stronger than the fire and storm and all the demon hosts.
He says a mountain he can hold in one hand and uproot
The forest trees of Mathura by playing on his flute.
Boastful One ! Boastful One ! Yashoda took a rod
And hushed the peccant lips of him who was a laughing God.
[ 3 8 ]
GHANASHYAM
Thou givest to the shadows on the mountains The colours of thy glory, Ghanashyam, Thy laughter to high secret snow-fed fountains, To forest pines thy healing breath of balm. Thou lendest to the storm's unbridled tresses The beauty and the blackness of thy hair. And scatter est the joy of thy caresses In lustrous rain upon the limpid air. Thou dost vouchsafe to pilgrim-hearted ages The music of thy mercy, Ghanashyam, And grantest to thy seekers and thy sages Mystic sanctuaries of transcendent calm. O take my yearning soul for thine oblation. Life of all myriad lives that dwell in thee. Let me be lost, a lamp of adoration. In thine unfathomed waves of ecstasy.
[39]
SONGS OF RADHA
A T DAWN
All night my heart its lonely vigil kept Listening for thee, O Love. All night I wept. Where went thy wanton footsteps wandering,
Sweet Ghanashyam, my King?
My bridal veils are flung upon the floor, My bridal garlands drop across the door. The buds that on my bed their fragrance spilt,
Grief-scattered, wane and wilt.
O Flute-player, how quickly dost thou tire Of thine own gladness and thine own desire! Couldst thou not find upon my sheltering breast
Thy rapture and thy rest?
Whose are the fingers that like amorous flocks Raid the ambrosial thickets of thy locks? Ah, whose the lips that smite w;ith sudden drouth
The garden of thy mouth?
What shall it profit to revile or hate Thy fickleness, her beauty or my fate-.
[ 4 0 ]
Or strive to tear with black and bitter art Thine image from my heart?
Without thy loveliness my life is dead. Love, like a lamp with golden oils unfed. Come back, come back from thy wild wandering.
Sweet Ghanashyam, my King!
A T DUSK
Krishna Murari, my radiant lover Cometh. O coinrades haste. Bring me rich perfumes my limbs to cover. Saffron and sandal paste. Bring shining garments for my adorning. Blue of the dusk and rose of the morning, Gold of the flaming noon. Bring me a breastband of gems that shimmer,. Making the lamps of the stars grow dimmer. Fillets and fringes of pearls whose glimmer Shameth the Shravan moon. ^'c'oJ
Krishna Murari, my radiant iovei:' , \ \ p Cometh. O sisters spread Buds and ripe blossoms his couch to cover. Silver and vermeil red. With flowering branches the doorways darken Is that his flute call? Sisters hearken! Why tarrieth he so long?
' -.ce \ p
[41 ]
O like a leaf doth my shy heart shiver, O like a wave do my faint limbs quiver. Softly, softly, Jamuna river, Sing thou our bridal song. "
THE QUEST
My foolish love went seeking thee at dawn, Crying—O wind where is Kanhaya gone ?
I questioned at noonrise the forest glade. Rests my sweet lover in thy friendly shade ?
At dusk I pleaded with the dovegray tides, 0 tell me where my Flute-player abides.
Dumb were the waters, dumb the woods, the wind. They knew not where my playfellow to find.
1 bowed my weeping face upon my palm. Moaning—O where art thou, my Ghanashyam ?
Then, like a boat that rocks from keel to rafter, My heart was shaken by thy hidden laughter.'
Then didst thou "inock ihe with thy tender malice, Like nectar bubbling from my own heart's chalice.
Thou saidst,—O faithless one, self-slain with doubt. Why seekest thou my loveliness without,
[42]
And askest wind or wave or flowering dell The secret that within thyself doth dwell?
I am of thee, as thou of me, a part. Look for me in the mirror of thy heart.
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