RĀDHĀ PŪRBBARĀGA

XXI.

Rādhā: How shall I tell of Kānu's beauty, my dear? Who shall describe that dream-shape? His lovely form is a fresh cloud, His yellow garment the lightning's flash.

So black, so black his waving hair! The peacock-plume so near the moon's orb! For fragrance of the screw-pine and the jasmine, Madan casts away his flower-arrows in dismay.

Vidyāpati asks: What more shall I say? Nature has emptied Madan's treasury!

XXII.

Rādhā: I had desired to look on Kānu, But when I saw him I was filled with fear: Ever since then I am both fond and foolish, I have no knowledge at all what I say or do.

My twin eyes wept like dripping rain, Unceasingly my heart went pit-a-pat: I cannot think what made me look on him, my dear, Just for that whim, I lent my life into another's hand!

I cannot tell what that dear thief has done to me,— When I beheld him, he did steal my heart, and went away, And as he went he showed so many signs of love, The more I would forget, the less I may!

Hearken, fair maid, says Vidyāpati: Have patience in your heart, for you shall meet Murāri.

XXIII.

Rādhā: A peerless beauty I beheld, my dear, If you but listen, you may know it was the vision of a dream Twin lotus-feet that wore a string of moons, From them two tender tamāl-shafts arising,—

Around them twined a vine of lightning, (He slowly passed along Kālindī's bank): Upon his leaf-like hands another string of moons— The lustre of the sun on new-blown flowers.

Twin flawless bimba-fruits were ripe. Above them sat a tranquil parrot: Over him twin restless wagtails. Over them a serpent coiled about his head.

My playful maid, explain: Why did he steal my wits when I beheld him thus? Vidyāpati says: It is a sign of love; Well have you weighed the worthy wight.

XXIV.

Rādhā: How can I tell the limits of my grief, my dear? The blowing of that flute diffuses poison through my frame: Insistently I hear it sounding, And then my heart and body melt in shame.

In that supreme instant, my body fills to overflowing, I dare not lift my eyes lest anyone should know of it: In the company of elders, waves of emotion sweeping through me, I draw my dress across each limb to hide it carefully.

With softest steps I walk about the house— Kind fate has so far hidden my secret shame— But rapture fills my heart and body, my girdle slips! Vidyāpati is dazed! What can he say?