Translations by Arthur W. Ryder

These are 213 poems (many of them single stanzas) from Sanskrit, published in the posthumous volume of Ryder's work. Most of them were previously published as the two collections Women's Eyes and Relatives, and a few additional ones were previously unpublished.

A review of Ryder's Women's Eyes says that the translation “is done with an engaging dry humor in unusually clean-cut English. A little book to buy and cherish” and that is a good summary of Ryder's style and talent.

All of Ryder's translations were intended to stand by themselves (in fact, they often achieve their effect by different means than the original), but on this webpage, wherever I could guess the original Sanskrit verse, I've included it, either in full or just a part as a placeholder for the full verse. (You can help! Either in locating more originals—thanks to Suhas Mahesh for contributing 60 of these!—or expanding the placeholders.)

Women's Eyes

  [From Preface]
  The maid my true heart loves would not my true love be;
  She seeks another man; another maid loves he;
  And me another maid her own true love would see:
  Oh, fie on her and him and Love and HER and me!
  yāṃ cintayāmi satataṃ mayi sā viraktā
  sā apy anyam icchati janaṃ sa jano anyasaktaḥ |
  asmat kṛte ca pariśuṣyati kācid anyā
  dhik tāṃ ca taṃ ca madanaṃ ca imāṃ ca māṃ ca || BharSt_1.0 ||
  WOMEN'S EYES

  The world is full of women's eyes,
  Defiant, filled with shy surprise,
  Demure, a little overfree,
  Or simply sparkling roguishly;
  It seems a gorgeous lily-bed,
  Whichever way I turn my head.
  kvacit sa-bhrū-bhaṅgaiḥ kvacid api ca lajjā-parigataiḥ
  kvacid bhūri-trastaiḥ kvacid api ca līlā-vilalitaiḥ |
  kumārīṇām etair madana-subhagair netra-valitaiḥ
  sphuran-nīlābjānāṃ prakara-parikīrṇā iva diśaḥ || BharSt_2.4 ||
  IF ONLY WE MIGHT DRESS IN AIR

  If only we might dress in air,
    And eat what begging brings,
  And sleep outdoors, we should not care
    For all the money-kings.
  अश्नीमहि वयं भिक्षां आशावासो वसीमहि ।
  शयीमहि महीपृष्ठे कुर्वीमहि किम् ईश्वरैः ॥३.५५॥
  (भर्तृहरि)
        
  LOVE IS YOUNG

  The wrinkles on my face are all untold;
    My hair is gray and thin;
  My limbs are sadly feeble grown, and old:
    But love is young, and sin.
  balibhir mukham ākrāntaṃ palitenāṅkitaṃ śiraḥ |
  gātrāṇi śithilāyante tṛṣṇaikā taruṇāyate || BharSt_3.8 ||
  LOVE GROWS BY WHAT IT FEEDS ON

  When she is far, I only want to see see her;
    When she is seen, I only want to kiss her;
  When she is kissed, I never want to flee her;
    I know that I could never bear to miss her.
  adarśane darśana-mātra-kāmā
  dṛṣṭvā pariṣvaṅga-sukhaika-lolā |
  āliṅgitāyāṃ punar āyatākṣyām
  āśāsmahe vigrahayor abhedam || BharSt_2.22 ||
  GENTLE EYES

  Candle, and fire, and star,
    Sun, moon, to give me light;
  But her dear, gentle eyes are far—
    This world is night.
  sati pradīpe saty agnau satsu tārāravīnduṣu |
  vinā me mṛga-śāvākṣyā tamo-bhūtam idaṃ jagat || BharSt_2.14 ||
  THE STUBBORN FOOL-I

    A diamond you may draw
    From an alligator's jaw;
  You may cross the raging ocean like a pool;
    A cobra you may wear
    Like a blossom in your hair;
  But you never can convince a stubborn fool.
  prasahya maṇim uddharen makara-vaktra-daṃṣṭrāntarāt
  samudram api santaret pracalad ūrmi-mālākulam |
  bhujaṅgam api kopitaṃ śirasi puṣpavad dhārayet
  na tu pratiniviṣṭa-mūṛkha-jana-cittam ārādhayet || BharSt_1.4 ||
  THE STUBBORN FOOL-II

    With sufficient toil and travail
    You may gather oil from gravel;
  The mirage perhaps your thirsty lips may cool;
    If you seek it night and morn,
    You may find a rabbit's horn;
  But you never can convince a stubborn fool.
  labheta sikatāsu tailam api yatnataḥ pīḍayan
  pibec ca mṛga-tṛṣṇikāsu salilaṃ pipāsārditaḥ |
  kadācid api paryaṭan śaśa-viṣāṇam āsādayet
  na tu pratiniviṣṭa-mūrkha-jana-cittam ārādhayet || BharSt_1.5 ||
  SEVEN ARROWS

  Seven arrows pierce my heart:
  The moonbeams that by day depart;
  The maid whose youthful beauty flies;
  The pool wherein the lotus dies;
  The handsome man whose lips are dumb
  The rich man, miserly and glum;
  The good man sunk in suffering;
  The rogue in favor with the king.
  śaśī divasa-dhūsaro galita-yauvanā kāminī
  saro vigata-vārijaṃ mukham anakṣaraṃ svākṛteḥ |
  prabhur dhana-parāyaṇaḥ satata-durgataḥ sajjano
  nṛpāṅgaṇa-gataḥ khalo manasi sapta śalyāni me || BharSt_1.56 ||
  SUBSTITUTES

  What need of armor to the patient soul?
  What need of foes, if temper spurns control?
  If rogues are near, what need of snakes to harm you?
  If relatives, what need of fire to warm you?
  If friends, what need of magic draughts for health?
  If blameless scholarship, what need of wealth?
  If modesty, what need of gems and flowers?
  If poetry, what need of kingly powers?
  kṣāntiś cet kavacena kiṃ kim aribhiḥ krodho 'sti ced dehināṃ
  jñātiś ced analena kiṃ yadi suhṛd divyauṣadhaṃ kiṃ phalam |
  kiṃ sarpair yadi durjanāḥ kim u dhanair vidyā 'navadyā yadi
  vrīḍā cet kim u bhūṣaṇaiḥ sukavitā yady asti rājyena kim || BharSt_1.21 ||
  SWEET AND BITTER

  Sweet are the moonbeams, sweet the grass-grown wood,
  Sweet is the peaceful converse of the good,
  The poet's song is sweet, the maiden's face
  When angry tear-drops lend a sudden grace:
  All would be sweet if human fate were fitter;
  The thought of death turns all the sweet to bitter.
  ramyāś candra-marīcayas tṛṇavatī ramyā vanānta-sthalī
  ramyaṃ sādhu-samāgamāgata-sukhaṃ kāvyeṣu ramyāḥ kathāḥ |
  kopopāhita-bāṣpa-bindu-taralaṃ ramyaṃ priyāyā mukhaṃ
  sarvaṃ ramyam anityatām upagate citte na kiñcit punaḥ || BharSt_3.79 ||
  WHEN I KNEW A LITILE BIT

  When I knew a little bit,
  Then my silly, blinded wit,
  Mad as elephants in rut,
  Thought it was omniscient; but
  When I learned a little more
  From the scholar's hoarded store,
  Madness' fever soon grew cool,
  And I knew I was a fool.
  yadā kiñcij-jño 'haṃ dvipa iva madāndhaḥ samabhavaṃ
  tadā sarvajño 'smīty abhavad avaliptaṃ mama manaḥ
  yadā kiñcit kiñcid budhajana-sakāśād avagataṃ
  tadā mūrkho 'smīti jvara iva mado me vyapagataḥ || BharSt_1.8 ||
  WHOM DOES SHE LOVE?

  With one she gossips full of art;
  Her glances with a second flirt;
  She holds another in her heart:
  Whom does she love enough to hurt?
  jalpanti sārdham anyena 
  paśyanty anyaṃ savibhramāḥ |
  hṛd-gataṃ cintayanty anyaṃ 
  priyaḥ ko nāma yoṣitām || BharSt_2.50 ||
  ARROWS OF LOVE

  Where are you going, winsome maid,
  Though deepest, darkest night? (he said.)
  I go to him whom love has made
  Dearer to me than life (she said).
  Ah, girl, and are you not afraid,
  For you are all alone? (he said.)
  The god of love shall be mine aid,
  Arrows of love fly true (she said).
  क्व प्रस्थितासि करभोरु घने निशीथे
  प्राणाधिको वसति यत्र जनः प्रियो मे ।
  एकाकिनी वद कथं न बिभेषि बाले
  नन्वस्ति पुङ्खितशरो मदनः सहायः ॥६९॥(७१)
  (अमरु, ध्वन्यालोक) (Amaru)
  THE DANGER OF DELAY

  In giving, and receiving too,
  In every deed you have to do,
  Act quickly; if you wait a bit,
  Then time will suck the juice of it.
  आदानस्य प्रदानस्य 
  कर्तव्यस्य च कर्मणः ।
  क्षिप्रमक्रियमाणस्य
  कालः पिबति सम्पदः ॥ ११ ॥
  (हितोपदेश)
  (Hitopadesha)
  BETTER TO DWELL IN MOUNTAINS WILD

  Better to dwell in mountains wild
    With beasts of prey
  Than in the palaces of gods
    With fools to stay.
  varaṃ parvata-durgeṣu
  bhrāntaṃ vanacaraiḥ saha
  na mūrkha-jana-samparkaḥ
  surendra-bhavaneṣv api || BharSt_1.14 ||
  THE APRIL WIND

  The wind of April is a lover bold:
  He makes the women shiver hot and cold;
  He shuts their eyes, he rumples up their hair,
  And catches rudely at the gowns they wear;
  Time after time he presses pretty lips
  From which a cry indignant-joyful slips.
  keśānākulayan dṛśo mukulayan vāso balād ākṣipann
  ātanvan pulakodgamaṃ prakaṭayann āvega-kampaṃ śanaiḥ |
  bāraṃ bāram udāra-sītkṛta-kṛto danta-cchadān pīḍayan
  prāyaḥ śaiśira eṣa samprati marut kāntāsu kāntāyate || BharSt_2.100 ||
  MY FOLLY'S DONE

  Why should that girl still use her keen,
  Coquettish eyes that steal the sheen
  From lotus-flowers. What can she mean?

  My folly's done. The fever-sting
  Of love's soft arrow does not cling;
  And yet she doesn't stop, poor thing!
  iyaṃ bālā māṃ praty anavaratam indīvara-dala-
  prabhā cīraṃ cakṣuḥ kṣipati kim abhipretam anayā |
  gato moho 'smākaṃ smara-śabara-bāṇa-vyatikara-
  jvara-jvālā śāntā tad api na varākī viramati || BharSt_2.63 ||
        
  DOES SHE LOVE ME?

  Although she does not speak to me,
    She listens while I speak;
  Her eyes turn not, my face to see,
    But nothing else they seek.
  vācaṃ na miśrayati yady api mad-vacobhiḥ
  karṇaṃ dadāty abhimukhaṃ mayi bhāṣamāṇe /
  kāmaṃ na tiṣṭhati mada-ānana-saṃmukhīnām
  bhūyiṣṭham anya-viṣayā na tu dṛṣṭir asyāḥ // KSak_1.28 //
  [Shakuntala]
  REMEDIES

  A fire with water we defeat,
  With parasols the midday heat,
  Mad elephants with goads that prick,
  Oxen and asses with a stick,
  Sickness with draughts that banish harm,
  Poison with many a spell and charm,
  Science has cures for every ill
  Except the fool; be prospers still.
  śakyo vārayituṃ jalena hutabhuk cchatreṇa sūryātapo
  nāgendro niśitāgkuśena samado daṇḍena go-gardabhau |
  vyādhir bheṣaja-saṅgrahaiś ca vividhair mantra-prayogair viṣaṃ
  sarvasyauṣadham asti śāstra-vihitaṃ mūrkhasya nasty auṣadhim || BharSt_1.11 ||
  THE BEAUTIFUL AND THE GOOD

  You are a teacher of the youth
  Who master philosophic truth;
  I seek in the poetic art
  What charms and ravishes the heart.
  Yet we are honest and we see
  The only good is charity;
  And nothing charms us, fools or wise,
  Except a maid with lotus-eyes.
  भवन्तो वेदान्तप्रणिहितधिया माप्तगुरवो 
  विचित्रालापानां वयमपि कवीनामनुचराः ।
  तथाप्येतद् ब्रूमो नहि परहितात् पुण्यमधिकं 
  न चास्मिन् संसारे कुवलयदृशो रम्यमपरम् ॥
  (भर्तृहरि)
        
  THE POWER OF MONEY

  His powers are still the same, his actions too,
  His mind is quite as keen, his speech as true;
  Yet he has undergone a wondrous change—
  He lost his money. Do you think it strange?
  tānīndriyāṇy avikalāni tad eva nāma
  sā buddhir apratihatā vacanaṃ tad eva |
  arthoṣmaṇā virahitaḥ puruṣaḥ kṣaṇena
  so 'py anya eva bhavatīti vicitram etat || BharSt_1.40 ||
  DESIRE IS YOUNG

  Not time, but we, have passed away;
  Not virtue, we ourselves grow cold;
  Not joys, but we, no longer stay:
  Desire is young, but we are old.
  bhogā na bhuktā vayam eva bhuktās
  tapo na taptaṃ vayam eva taptāḥ |
  kālo na yāto vayam eva yātāstṛṣṇā
  na jīrṇā vayam eva jīrṇāḥ || BharSt_3.7 ||
  THOU ART A FLOWER

  Thou art a flower whose fragrance none has tasted,
    A gem uncut by workman's tool,
  A branch no desecrating hands have wasted,
    A virgin forest, sweetly cool.

  No man on earth deserves to taste thy beauty,
    Thy blameless loveliness and worth,
  Unless he has fulfilled man's perfect duty—
  And is there such a one on earth?
  anāghrātaṃ puṣpaṃ kisalayam alūnaṃ kara-ruhair
  anāviddhaṃ ratnaṃ madhu navam anāsvādita-rasam /
  akhaṇḍaṃ puṣyānāṃ phalam iva ca tad-rūpam anaghaṃ
  na jāne bhoktāraṃ kam iha samupasthāsyati vidhiḥ // KSak_2.10 //
  [Shakuntala]
  THE DIVINE DECREE
  Thy wise creator wrote upon thy brow,
    When thou wast born, what wealth should once be thine;
  The sum was great perhaps, or small; yet now
    Thy fate is fixed, and sure the law divine.

  For if thou dwell within the desert's bound,
    Thou shalt have nothing less than his decree;
  Nor shall a single penny more be found,
    Although the golden mount thy dwelling be.

  Ah, then be brave and play the manly part,
  Nor be so fond to humble thy proud heart
  And fawn before the rich with cringing art.

  For see! A jar that in the ocean fell
  Holds no more water in its little shell
  Than when you lowered it in the meanest well.
  yad dhātrā nija-bhāla-paṭṭa-likhitaṃ stokaṃ mahad vā dhanaṃ
  tat prāpnoti marusthale 'pi nitarāṃ merau tato nādhikam |
  tad dhīro bhava vittavatsu kṛpaṇāṃ vṛttiṃ vṛthā sā kṛthāḥ
  kūpe paśya payonidhāv api ghaṭo gṛhṇāti tulyaṃ jalam || BharSt_1.49 ||
  TWO KINGS

  Flee from the palace where they say:
  The king is sleeping; go away-
  He has no time for you today-
  Or-he will see you if you stay-
  He will be angry anyway.

  Flee to another, greater king,
  My soul, who rules each mortal thing,
  Whose palace knows no bolt, no ring,
  No porter's harsh, sarcastic fling,
  No pain, no human suffering.
  nāyaṃ te samayo rahasyam adhunā nidrāti nātho yadi
  sthitvā drakṣyati kupyati prabhur iti dvāreṣu yeṣāṃ vacaḥ |
  cetas tān apahāya yāhi bhavanaṃ devasya viśveśitur
  nirdauvārika-nirdayokty-aparuṣaṃ niḥsoma-śarma-pradam || BharSt_3.71*1 ||
          
  ABSENCE AND UNION

  Absence is union dear,
  When hearts are one;
  Union is absence drear.
  When love is done.
  etat-kāma-phalo loke yad dvayor eka-cittatā |
  anya-citta-kṛte kāme śavayor iva saṅgamaḥ || BharSt_2.35*1 ||
        
  THE SERPENT-WOMAN

  Avoid the poison-glance, my friends;
    The serpent-woman flee;
  Her crooked path has crooked ends;
    Her hood is coquetry.

  If you are stung by common snakes,
    Perhaps you will not die;
  If poison from a woman takes,
    The doctors say good-bye.
  vyādīrgheṇa calena vaktra-gatinā tejasvinā bhoginā
  nīlābja-dyutināhinā param ahaṃ dṛṣṭo na tac-cakṣuṣā |
  dṛṣṭe santi cikitsakā diśi diśi prāyeṇa darmārthino
  mugdhākṣkṣaṇa-vīkṣitasya na hi me vaidyo na cāpy auṣadham || BharSt_2.55 ||
  CAN SHE BE DEAR?

  The thought of her is saddening,
    The sight of her is fear,
  The touch of her is maddening—
    Can she be really dear?
  smṛtā bhavati tāpāya dṛṣṭā conmāda-kāriṇī |
  spṛṣṭā bhavati mohāya sā nāma dayitā katham || BharSt_2.42 ||
  THE DECLINE OF TRUE LEARNING

  Once, learning slew the living woe
  Of wise men. That was long ago.
  She then disdained such service rare,
  Became a practical affair.
  But nowadays she sees that kings
  Despise all intellectual things,
  And sinking lower day by day,
  She seems to vanish quite away.
  purā vidvattāsīdupaśamavatāṃ kleśahataye
  gatā kālenāsau viṣayasukha-siddhyai viṣayiṇām
  idānīṃ tu prekṣya kṣititalabhujaḥ śāstravimukhān
  aho kaṣṭaṃ sāpi pratidinam adhodhaḥ praviśati || BharSt_3.56.5 ||
  THE LAST DAY

  When the celestial mount shall totter, burning
    In all-devouring flame,
  When seas go dry, where crocodiles are turning
    And sharks no man may tame,
  When the compact earth itself shall tumble sheer,
    Great mountains madly dance,
  What of our bodies, quivering like the ear
    Of baby elephants?
  यतो मेरुः श्रीमान्निपतति युगान्ताग्निवलितः
  समुद्राः शुष्यन्ति प्रचुरमकरग्राहनिलयाः ।
  धरा गच्छत्यन्तं धरणिधरपादैरपि धृता
  शरीरे का वार्ता करिकलभकर्णाग्रचपले ।। ३.७२ ।।
  (भर्तृहरि)
        
  LOGIC

  How long may subtle logic play its part
  In science and theology and art?
    So long as no young fawn-eyed maiden's glance
  Shall find its way to the logician's heart.
  तदवधि कुशली पुराण-शास्त्र-स्मृति-शत-चारु-विचारजो विवेकः । 
  यदवधि न पदं दधाति चित्ते हरिण-किशोर-दृशोः दृशोः विलासः ॥
  (Bhāminī-vilāsa of Jagannātha)
  THE ANGER OF THE KING

  None from the anger of the king
    May be released;
  The fire consumes the offering
    And burns the priest.
  na kaścic caṇḍa-kopānām
  ātmīyo nāma bhūbhujām |
  hotāram api juhvānaṃ
  spṛṣṭo vahati pāvakaḥ || BharSt_1.57 ||
  THE RAINS

  And when the rainy days are come,
  Your lady-love must stay at home;
  She clings to you, a little bold
  Because she shivers with the cold;
  The breeze is fresh with heaven's spray
  And drives her lassitude away:
  When happy lovers are together,
  The rainy time is fairest weather.
  āsāreṇa na harmyataḥ priyatamair yātuṃ bahiḥ śakyate
  śītotkampa-nimittam āyata-dṛśā gāḍhaṃ samāliṅgyate |
  jātāḥ śīkara-śītalāś ca marutor atyanta-kheda-cchido
  dhanyānāṃ bata durdinaṃ sudinatāṃ yāti priyā-saṅgame || BharSt_2.95 ||
        
  THE LOVERS' ALLY

  Ye maids, exhaust your haughty scorn
    On lovers bending low;
  For soon the breeze in southland born,
  With sandal sweet, will blow.
  प्रियपुरतो युवतीनां तावत्पदमातनोति हृदि मानः ।
  भवति न यावच्चन्दनतरुसुरभिर्निर्मलः पवनः ॥ ४१॥
  (भर्तृहरि)
        
  WHY?

  The deer, the fish, the good man hunger
    For grass, for water, for content;
  Yet hunter, fisher, scandalmonger
    Pursue each harmless innocent.
  mṛga-mīna-sajjanānāṃ tṛṇa-jala-santoṣa-vihita-vṛttīnām |
  lubdhaka-dhīvara-piśunā niṣkāraṇa-vairiṇo jagati || BharSt_1.61 ||
  ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE

  Child for an hour, and lovesick youth an hour,
    Beggar an hour, then fanned by riches' breath,
  The wrinkled actor, Man, bereft of power,
    Creeps tottering behind the curtain, Death.
  kṣaṇaṃ bālo bhūtvā kṣaṇam api yuvā kāma-rasikaḥ
  kṣaṇaṃ vittair hīnaḥ kṣaṇam api ca sampūrṇa-vibhavaḥ |
  jarā-jīrṇair aṅgair naṭa iva balī-maṇḍita-tanūr
  naraḥ saṃsārānte viśati yamadhānīya-vanikām || BharSt_3.50 ||
  THE WAY OF THE WORLD

  In daily journeys of the sun
  Our little life is quickly done;
  In anxious duties of the day
  The hours unnoticed slip away;
  Though birth and age are ever near,
  And grief and death, we do not fear:
  The world forgets its sore distress,
  Goes mad with wine of heedlessness.
  ādityasya gatāgatair aharahaḥ saṃkṣīyate jīvitaṃ
  vyāpārair bahu-kārya-bhāra-gurubhiḥ kālo 'pi na jñāyate |
  dṛṣṭvā janma-jarā-vipatti-maraṇaṃ trāsaś ca notpadyate
  pītvā mohamayīṃ pramāda-madirām unmatta-bhūtaṃ jagat || BharSt_3.43 ||
        
  SHE ONLY LOOKED

  She did not redden nor deny
    My entrance to her room;
  She did not speak an angry word;
    She did not fret and fume;
  She did not frown upon poor me,
    Her lover now as then;
  She only looked at me the way
    She looks at other men.
  nāntaḥpraveśam aruṇad vimukhī na cāsīd
  ācaṣṭa roṣaparuṣāṇi na cākṣarāṇi
  sā kevalaṃ saralapakṣmabhir akṣipātaiḥ
  kāntaṃ vilokitavatī jananirviśeṣam
  (Amaru)
  WHO UNDERSTANDS A MAN?

  Once he would follow at my feet,
    Obey my slightest word;
  And black was black, if black to me,
    Or white, if I preferred;
  And he began to walk or sit
    The moment I began;
  But he is different now. Oh, dear!
    Who understands a man?
  इदं कृष्णं कृष्णं प्रियतम तनु श्वेतमथ किं
  गमिष्यामो यामो भवतु गमनेनाथ भवतु ।
  पुरा येनैवं मे चिरमनुसृता चित्तपदवी
  स एवान्यो जातः सखि परिचिताः कस्य पुरुषाः ॥१००॥(९४)
  (Amaru)
  UNTRUSTWORTHY THINGS

  The things that can claw, and the things that can gore,
    Are very untrustworthy things;
  And a man with a sword in his hand, furthermore,
    And rivers and women and kings.
  नदीनां शस्त्रपाणीनां नखिनां शृंगिणां तथा । 
  विश्वासो नैव कर्तयः स्त्रीषु राजकुलेषु च ॥
  (हितोपदेश)
  (Hitopadesha)
  TWO VIEWS OF LIFE
  When ignorance my life entwined,
  Love's ointment made me strangely blind-
  I thought the world was made of womankind.

  But clearer judgment than, of yore
  The veil before my vision tore-
  I knew that God is all the world and more.
  yadāsīd ajñānaṃ smara-timira-sañcāra-janitaṃ
  tadā dṛṣṭa-nārī-mayam idam aśeṣaṃ jagad iti |
  idānīm asmākaṃ paṭutara-vivekāñjana-juṣāṃ
  samībhūtā dṛṣṭis tribhuvanam api brahma manute || BharSt_2.69 ||
  PROCRASTINATION

  By and by-
  Never fret-
  I shall try
  By and by.

  By and by-
  Don't forget-
  You must die
  By and by.
  ["Anthology"]
  SHOULD FANCY CEASE

  The lover's patient fancy brings him peace,
    Paints her he loves before his inward eye,
  And gives him comfort; but should fancy cease,
    The world would be a forest dead and dry,
    And hearts that shrivel in the burning chaff must die.
  चिरं ध्यात्वा ध्यात्वा लिखितमिव निर्माय पुरतः
  प्रवासे प्रश्वासं न खलु न करोति प्रियजनः ।
  जगज्जीर्णारण्यं भवति तु विकल्प-व्युपरमे
  कुकूलानां राशौ तदनु हृदयं पच्यत इव ॥            
  [Bhavabhuti, Uttara-rama-charita 6.38]
  WHAT THEN?-I

  What if my life is fed
    With all that seems most sweet?
  What if my foeman's head
    Is ground beneath my feet?
  What if my wealth makes friends
    Again and yet again?
  What if my soul ascends
    Through countless lives? What then?
  prāptāḥ śriyaḥ sakala-kāma-dudhās tataḥ kiṃ
  nyastaṃ padaṃ śirasi vidviṣatāṃ tataḥ kim |
  sampāditāḥ praṇayino vibhavais tataḥ kiṃ
  kalpaṃ sthitās tanubhṛtāṃ tanavas tataḥ kim || BharSt_3.67 ||
        
  WHAT THEN?-II

  Old rags, or fine, white silk that flows and clings-
    Why should I care?
  Poor wife, or horses, elephants, and things-
    What difference there?
  Sweet rice, or wretched food when day is o'er-
    Why care again?
  God's light, or groping in the dark once more-
    What then? What then?
  jīrṇāḥ kanthā tataḥ kiṃ sitam amala-paṭaṃ paṭṭa-sūtraṃ tataḥ kiṃ
  ekā bhāryā tataḥ kiṃ haya-kari-sugaṇair āvṛto vā tataḥ kim |
  bhaktaṃ bhuktaṃ tataḥ kiṃ kadaśanam athavā vāsarānte tataḥ kiṃ
  vyakta-jyotir na vāntarmathita-bhava-bhayaṃ vaibhavaṃ vā tataḥ kim || BharSt_3.- ||
        
  THE QUEEN OF LOVE

  Surely the love-god is the slave
    Of her sweet eyes;
  For when they give a hint, the knave
    Obedient flies.
  nūnam ājñā-karas tasyāḥ subhruvo makara-dhvajaḥ |
  yatas tan-netra-sañcāra-sūciteṣu pravartate || BharSt_2.11 ||
        
  JOYOUS TREASURES

  How hard a thing it is that they achieve
    Whose hearts the thought of God keeps pure and bright,
  Who for His sake earth's joyous treasures leave
    Without a pang at losing such delight!

  Those joyous treasures I could never get;
    I cannot get them now; I am not sure
  That I shall ever win to them; and yet
    I cannot flout the thought, the hope, the lure.
  brahma-jñāna-viveka-nirmala-dhiyaḥ kurvanty aho duṣkaraṃ
  yan muñcanty upabhoga-bhāñjy api dhanāny ekāntato niḥspṛhāḥ |
  samprātān na purā na samprati na ca prāptau dṛḍha-pratyayān
  vāñchā-mātra-parigrahān api paraṃ tyaktuṃ na śaktā vayam || BharSt_3.13 ||
        
  VEXATIONS-I

  The scholarship that grasps at straws,
    The woman's love that must be bought,
  The life that hangs on tyrants' laws-
    These things are with vexation fraught.
  (Hitopadesha)
  VEXATIONS-II

  The fear of dying vexes birth;
    Age vexes flashing youth ;
  The carper vexes honest worth;
    Irresolution, truth.

  To vex our peace the women love;
    Our joy, ambition's sting;
  Rogues vex the court, and snakes the grove;
    And something, everything.
  ākrāntaṃ maraṇena janma jarasā cātyujjvalaṃ yauvanaṃ
  santoṣo dhana-lipsayā śama-mukhaṃ prauḍhāṅganā-vibhramaiḥ |
  lokair matsaribhir guṇā vana-bhuvo vyālair nṛpā durjanair
  asthairyeṇa vibhūtayo 'py apahatā grastaṃ na kiṃ kena vā || BharSt_3.32 ||
  LOVE, THE FISHER

  Love, the fisher, casts his woman-hook
    Into the sea of lust and fond desire,
  And just as soon as greedy men-fish look
    And snap the red bait, lips so sweet, so dire,
  Then he is quick to catch them and to cook
    The hungry wretches over passion's fire.
  vistāritaṃ makara-ketana-dhīvareṇa
  strī-saṃjñitaṃ baḍiśam atra bhavāmbu-rāśau |
  yenācirāt tad-adharāmiṣa-lola-martya-
  matsyān vikṛṣya vipacaty anurāga-vahnau || BharSt_2.53 ||
  EPHEMERAL POTIONS

  If mouths are dry with thirst,
  Men think of water first;
  If hungry, bolt their rice
  With many a toothsome spice;
  If love flames bright and brighter,
  They clasp the women tighter:
  They have the strangest notions;
  They think ephemeral potions
  Will heal the soul's commotions.
  तृषा शुष्यत्यास्ये पिबति सलिलं शीतमधुरं
  क्षुधार्तः शाल्यन्नं कवलयति मांसादिकलितं ।
  प्रदीप्ते कामाग्नौ सुदृढतरं आलिङ्गति वधूं
  प्रतीकारं व्याधः सुखं इति विपर्यस्यति जनः ॥ ३.१९ ॥
  (भर्तृहरि)  
        
  ALL THESE THINGS SHALL BE ADDED

  What though she have a bosom sweet,
    A form to beauty wed,
  A face in which the graces meet-
    She must not turn your head.

  Nay, if her charm your fancy haunts,
    Then live on virtue's food;
  One cannot have the things he wants
    Except by being good.
  tasyāḥ stanau yadi ghanau jaghanaṃ ca hāri
  vaktraṃ ca cāru tava citta kim ākulatvam |
  puṇyaṃ kuruṣva yadi teṣu tavāsti vāñchā
  puṇyair vinā na hi bhavanti samīhitārthāḥ || BharSt_2.18 ||
        
  THE BLIND FOREST

  The lady's body is a forest blind,
    With dangerous hills, her bosom fair;
  Think not to wander there, my mind;
    The robber, Love, is lurking there.
  kāminī-kāya-kāntāre kuca-parvata-durgame |
  mā saṃcara manaḥ pāntha tatrāste smara-taskaraḥ || BharSt_2.54 ||
  THE LITTLENESS OF THE WORLD

  Why should the truly wise man wish
    To hold the world in fee?
  'Tis but the leaping of a baby fish
    Upon the boundless sea.
  brahmāṇḍaṃ maṇḍalī-mātraṃ kiṃ lobhāya manasvinaḥ |
  śapharī-sphurtenābdhiḥ kṣubdho na khalu jāyate || BharSt_3.92 ||
        
  FRIENDSHIP'S END

  Yes, you were I, and I was you,
  So fond the love that linked us two;
  Alas, my friend, for friendship's end!
  Now I am I, and you are you.
  yūyaṃ vayaṃ vayaṃ yūyam
  ity āsīt matir āvayoḥ |
  kiṃ jātam adhunā mitra
  yūyaṃ yūyaṃ vayaṃ vayam ||
  (भर्तृहरि)
  A WASTED LIFE-I

  No stainless wisdom have I learned;
  No honest money have I earned;
  No fond obedience have I brought
  To parents, with a heart well-taught;
  I never dreamed of sweet embraces,
  Of sparkling eyes and roguish faces:
  My life was wasted like the crow's:
  I lived on strangers' bread and blows.
  vidyā nādhigatā kalaṅka-rahitā vittaṃ ca nopārjitaṃ
  śuśrūṣāpi samāhitena manasā pitror na sampāditā |
  ālolāyata-locanāḥ priyatamāḥ svapne 'pi nāliṅgitāḥ
  kālo 'yaṃ para-piṇḍa-lolupatayā kākair iva preryate || BharSt_3.47 ||
        
  A WASTED LIFE-II

  I never learned to vanquish other men
    In conference, with the just and fitting word;
  I never made high heaven ring again,
    Praising the elephant-hunter's sturdy sword;
  I never tasted honey from the kind,
    Soft lips of maids when moonlight scatters gloom:
  My youth is gone and left no good behind,
    A candle burning in an empty room.
  nābhyastā prativādi-vṛnda-damanī vidyā vinītocitā
  khaḍgāgraiḥ kari-kumbha-pīṭha-dalanair nākaṃ na nītaṃ yaśaḥ |
  kāntākomala-pallavādhara-rasaḥ pīto na candrodaye
  tāruṇyaṃ gatam eva niṣphalam aho śūnyālaye dīpavat || BharSt_3.46 ||
  (भर्तृहरि)
        
  A WASTED LIFE-III
  The paths of thought I never trod
  Which lead to unity in God;
  Nor were my days to virtue given
  Which opens wide the gates of heaven;
  Delights of love that men esteem
  Were mine not even in a dream:
  I was a sorry axe in sooth
  To cut the tree, my mother's youth.
  na dhyānaṃ padam īśvarasya vidhivat saṃsāra-vicchittaye
  svarga-dvāra-kapāṭa-pāṭana-paṭur dharmo 'pi nopārjitaḥ |
  nārī-pīna-payodharoru-yugalaṃ svapne 'pi nāliṅgitaṃ
  mātuḥ kevalam eva yauvana-vana-cchede kuṭhārā vayam || BharSt_3.45 ||
        
  FLAMING BANNERS

  Learning and dignity,
    Wisdom and manners
  Last till the god of love
    Plants flaming banners.
  tāvan mahattvaṃ pāṇḍityaṃ
  kulīnatvaṃ vivekitā |
  yāvaj jvalati nāṅgeṣu
  hataḥ pañceṣu-pāvakaḥ || BharSt_2.76 ||
        
  THE THIEF OF HEARTS

  You practice theft by strangest arts
    Once and again;
  In broad daylight you steal the hearts
    Of waking men.
  (Subhāṣ = Subhashitavali of Vallabhadeva?)
  TWO KINDS OF FRIENDSHIP

  The friendship of the rogue or saint,
    Like shade at dawn or shade at noon,
  Starts large and slowly grows more faint,
    Or starting faint, grows larger soon.
  ārambha-gurvī kṣayiṇī krameṇa
  laghvī purā vṛddhimatī ca paścāt |
  dinasya pūrvārdha-parārdha-bhinnā
  chāyeva maitrī khala-saj-janānām || BharSt_1.60 ||
  CHOOSING A VOCATION

  What shall I do in these few hours of life?
  Live humbly with a sweet, religious wife?
  Renounce the world, the ties of kindred sever,
  And spend my days beside the sacred river?
  Drink deep of honeyed poems' nectar-flow?
  Or learn philosophy? I hardly know.
  tapasyantaḥ santaḥ kim adhinivasāmaḥ sura-nadīṃ
  guṇodārān dārān uta paricarāmaḥ savinayam |
  pibāmaḥ śāstraughānuta-vividha-kāvyāmṛta-rasān
  na vidmaḥ kiṃ kurmaḥ katipaya-nimeṣāyuṣi jane || BharSt_3.76 ||
  THE GOOD ARE RARE

  Through thoughts and words and deeds their virtues flow
    To all the world their kindness brings delight;
  They make a mote of good in others show
    Like a great mountain; for their hearts are bright,
  And brighten all they touch with their own worth:
  How many such are to be found on earth?
  मनसि वचसि काये पुण्यपीयूषपूर्णास् 
  त्रिभुवनं उपकारश्रेणिभिः प्रीणयन्तः ।
  परगुणपरमाणून्पर्वतीकृत्य नित्यं 
  निजहृदि विकसन्तः सन्त सन्तः कियन्तः ॥ ७९ ॥
      
  THERE WAS A NOBLE CITY

  There was a noble city old,
  A mighty king, and vassals bold;
  And there were gathered scholars true,
  And moon-faced ladies not a few;
  And there were princes proud and free,
  And stories told, and minstrelsy:
  A memory now; we mourn their fall
  And honor Time, who levels all.
  सा रम्या नगरी महान्स नृपतिः सामन्तचक्रं च तत्
  पार्श्वे तस्य च सा विदग्धपरिषत्ताश्चन्द्रबिम्बाननाः ।
  उद्वृत्तः स राजपुत्रनिवहस्ते वन्दिनस्ताः कथाः
  सर्वं यस्य वशादगात्स्मृतिपथं कालाय तस्मै नमः ॥
        
  WHERE EDUCATION FAILS

  Though many youths a training get
  In law, religion, etiquette,
  Why are there few whose actions would,
  Interpreted, seem wholly good?

  Some arching brow is sure to be
  As cunning as a master-key,
  That serves its purpose passing well
  In flinging wide the gates of hell.
  śāstrajño 'pi praguṇi-tanayo 'tyānta-bādhāpi bāḍhaṃ
  saṃsāre 'smin bhavati viralo bhājanaṃ sad-gatīnām |
  yenaitasmin niraya-nagara-dvāram udghāṭayantī
  vāmākṣīṇāṃ bhavati kuṭilā bhrū-latā kuñcikeva || BharSt_2.77 || 
        
  ON GIVING A DAUGHTER IN MARRIAGE

  A girl is held in trust, another's treasure;
    To arms of love my child today is given;
  And now I feel a calm and sacred pleasure;
    I have restored the pledge that came from heaven.
  artho hi kanyā parakīya eva
  tām adya saṃpreṣya parigrahītuḥ /
  jāto mama+ayaṃ viśadaḥ prakāmaṃ
  pratyarpita-nyāsa iva+antar-ātmā // KSak_4.22 //
  [Shakuntala]
  STRUGGLING FANCIES

  It is my body leaves my love, not I;
    My body moves away, but not my mind;
  For back to her my struggling fancies fly
    Like silken banners borne against the wind.
  gacchati puraḥ śarīraṃ 
  dhāvati paścād asaṃstutaṃ cetaḥ /
  cīnāṃśukam iva ketoḥ 
  prativātaṃ nīyamānasya // KSak_1.31 //
  [Shakuntala]
  OH, MIGHT I END THE QUEST!

  I dug beneath the earth most greedily
    In search of hidden treasure;
  I smelted ore; I crossed the mighty sea,
    Forgetting every pleasure;
  I cringed to kings; and muddling all my brains
    With magic, lost my rest:
  But never got a penny for my pains;
    Oh, might I end the quest!
  utkhātaṃ nidhi-śaṅkayā kṣiti-talaṃ dhmātā girer dhātavo
  nistīrṇaḥ saritāṃ patir nṛpatayo yatnena santoṣitāḥ |
  mantrārādhana-tat-pareṇa manasā nītāḥ śmaśāne niśāḥ
  prāptaḥ kāṇa-varāṭako 'pi na mayā tṛṣṇe sakāmā bhava || BharSt_3.3 ||
  WHAT DELIGHTS AND HURTS

  It is the truth sans prejudice I speak;
    Ye people, heed this truth forever true;
  All that delights in women you must seek,
    And all that hurts, you find in women too.
  satyaṃ janā vacmi na pakṣa-pātāl
  lokeṣu saptasv api tathyam etat |
  nānyan manohāri nitambinībhyo
  duḥkhaika-hetur na ca kaścid anyaḥ || BharSt_2.40 ||
  THE SWEETEST THINGS
  The sweetest sight a man may see
    Is a maiden's loving face;
  The sweetest thing to touch should be
    Her body's close embrace;

  Her voice should be the sweetest sound;
    Her breath, the sweetest scent;
  The sweetest taste, the honey found
    On lips to kisses lent;

  The thought of her is fervent prayer,
    Religion's sweetest part;
  The charm of her is everywhere
    Unto the pure in heart.
  draṣṭavyeṣu kim uttamaṃ mṛgadṛśaḥ prema-prasannaṃ mukhaṃ
  ghrātaveṣv api kiṃ tad-āsya-pavanaḥ śravyeṣu kiṃ tad-vacaḥ |
  kiṃ svādyeṣu tad-oṣṭha-pallava-rasaḥ spṛśyeṣu kiṃ tad-vapur
  dhyeyaṃ kiṃ nava-yauvane sahṛdayaiḥ sarvatra tad-vibhramāḥ || BharSt_2.7 ||
        
  THE UNLUCKY MAN

  A bald man once, whose hairless pate
  Felt inconveniently hot,
  Fled to a cocoa-tree at noon-
  He hoped to find a shady spot.
  And then a big nut fell, and crack!
  The poor, hald head was split in two.
  Misfortunes almost always find
  The man whom evil fates pursue.
  khalv āto divaseśvarasya kiraṇaiḥ santāḍito mastake
  vāñchan deśam anātapaṃ vidhi-vaśāt tālasya mūlaṃ gataḥ |
  tatrāpy asya mahāphalena patatā bhagnaṃ saśabdaṃ śiraḥ
  prāyo gacchati yatra bhāgya-rahitas tatraiva yānty āpadaḥ || BharSt_1.90 ||
  A REASON FOR RENUNCIATION

  Possessions leave us at the end,
    However long they stay;
  Then why not cast aside, my friend,
    What leaves us anyway?

  And if they leave against our will,
    The heart takes time in mending;
  If given willingly, they fill
    That heart with joy unending.
  avaśyaṃ yātāraś cirataram uṣitvāpi viṣayā
  viyoge ko bhedas tyajati na jano yat svayam amūn |
  vrajantaḥ svātantryād atula-paritāpāya manasaḥ
  svayaṃ tyaktā hy ete śama-sukham anantaṃ vidadhati || BharSt_3.12 ||
  RENUNCIATION

  What does renunciation mean?
  It means a lonely woodland scene
  Remote from men and human sin,
  From woes of love, from love of kin,
  Free from the world, a life apart
  That slays the tortures of the heart
  As fear of death and fear of birth:
  It means the best of heaven and earth.
  bhaktir bhave maraṇa-janma-bhayaṃ hṛdi-sthaṃ
  sneho na bandhuṣu na manmathajā vikārāḥ |
  saṃsarja doṣa-rahitā vijayā vanāntā
  vairāgyam asti kim itaḥ paramarthanīyam || BharSt_3.68 ||
        
  THE BETTER PART

  Is there no splendid Himalayan height
    Cooled by the spray from Ganges' holy springs,
  With rocks where fairies now and then alight,
    That men should fawn upon contemptuous kings?
  gaṅgā-taraṅga-kaṇa-śīkara-śītalāni
  vidyādharādhyuṣita-cāru-śilā-talāni |
  sthānāni kiṃ himavataḥ pralayaṃ gatāni
  yat sāvamāna-para-piṇḍa-ratā manuṣyāḥ || BharSt_3.24 ||
        
  THE FIVE ROBBERS

  "Here are banquets, and singing sweet,
  Perfumes, and glimpse of dancing feet,
  And bosoms that on mine may bear."

  Five rascal senses whisper this,
  Lead me from virtue much amiss,
  And cheat me of my highest bliss.
  iha hi madhura-gītaṃ nṛtyam etad-raso 'yaṃ
  sphurati parimalo 'sau sparśa eṣa stanānām |
  iti hata-paramārthair indriyair bhrāmyamāṇaḥ
  sva-hita-karaṇa-dhūrtaiḥ pañcabhir vañcito 'smi || BharSt_2.56 ||
        
  WHEN WOMAN WILLS

  When loving woman wants her way.
  God hesitates to say her nay.
  unmatta-prema-saṃrambhād
  ārabhante yad-aṅganāḥ |
  tatra pratyūham ādhātuṃ
  brahmāpi khalu kātaraḥ || BharSt_2.75 ||
        
  A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE

    A fool's opinion easily is bent;
      More easy 'tis to win the wise and great;
    But God himself could never make content
      The man who feels himself elate
      With one small grain of knowledge in his pate.
  ajñaḥ sukham ārādhyaḥ
  sukhataram ārādhyate viśeṣajñaḥ |
  jñāna-lava-durvidagdhaṃ
  brahmāpi taṃ naraṃ na rañjayati || BharSt_1.3 ||
  THE WEAKER SEX

  The classic poets make a great mistake;
    Forever of the weaker sex they speak;
  When gods are subjugated for the sake
    Of starry glances, are the women weak?
  nūnaṃ hi te kavi-varā viparīta-vāco
  ye nityam āhur abalā iti kāminīs tāḥ |
  yābhir vilolitara-tāraka-dṛṣṭi-pātaiḥ
  śakrādayo 'pi vijitās tv abalāḥ kathaṃ tāḥ || BharSt_2.10 ||
  YOUNG WOMANHOOD

  Half-smiles that brighten on her face,
    Innocent, roving glances,
  The wealth of budding charms that show
    In little steps and dances,

  The flow of words that shyly prove
    The sweet, new woman-feeling:
  Yes, all the fawn-eyed maiden does
    Is wondrously appealing.
  smita-kiñcin-mugdhaṃ sarala-taralo dṛṣṭi-vibhavaḥ
  parispando vācām abhinava-vilāsokti-sarasaḥ |
  gatānām ārambhaḥ kisalayita-līlā-parikaraḥ
  spṛśantyās tāruṇyaṃ kim iva na hi ramyaṃ mṛgadṛśaḥ || BharSt_2.6 ||
        
  THE BRAVEST OF THE BRAVE

  A few brave men pursue
    Rogue elephants to death;
  There are a braver few
    Who stop the lion's breath;
  The bravest of the brave-
    And fewer yet they prove-
  Are they who can enslave
    The haughty god of love.
  mattebha-kumbha-dalane bhuvi santi dhīrāḥ
  kecit pracaṇḍa-mṛga-rāja-vadhe 'pi dakṣāḥ |
  kintu bravīmi balināṃ purataḥ prasahya
  kandarpa-darpa-dalane viralā manuṣyāḥ || BharSt_2.73 ||
        
  DIGNITY

  The dog will roll, and wag his tail, and fawn,
  Show mouth and belly, just to get some meat;
  The majestic elephant gazes gravely on;
  Till coaxed a hundred times, he will not eat.
  lāṅgūla-cālanam adhaś-caraṇāvapātaṃ
  bhūmau nipatya vadanodara-darśanaṃ ca |
  śvā piṇḍadasya kurute gaja-puṅgavas tu
  dhīraṃ vilokayati cāṭu-śataiś ca bhuṅkte || BharSt_1.31 ||
  IN THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH

  While life is vigorous and bright,
    While sickness comes not, nor decay,
  While all your powers are at their height,
    While yet old age is far away,
  Then, wise man, let your thoughts be turning
    To heaven's hopes and fears of hell;
  For when the house is fired and burning,
    It is too late to dig a well.
  yāvat svastham idaṃ śarīram arujaṃ yāvac ca dūre jarā
  yāvac cendriya-śaktir apratihatā yāvat kṣayo nāyuṣaḥ |
  ātma-śreyasi tāvad eva viduṣā kāryaḥ prayatno mahān
  sandīpte bhavane tu kūpa-khananaṃ pratyudyamaḥ kīdṛśaḥ || BharSt_3.75 ||
  THEY WANT THE EARTH

  'Tis but a little ball of mud
    With a streak of water round;
  Yet kings for it will shed their blood,
    As for a treasure found.

  They cannot, will not leave the thing,
    So poor are they, so mean;
  And men will fawn on such a king!
    Oh, shame upon the scene!
  mṛt-piṇḍo jala-rekhayā bala-yatiḥ sarvo 'py ayaṃ nanv aṇuḥ
  svāṃśīkṛtya sa eva saṅgara-śatai rājñāṃ gaṇā bhuñjate |
  ye dadyur dadato 'thavā kim aparaṃ kṣudrā daridraṃ bhṛśaṃ
  dhig dhik tān puruṣādhamān dhanakaṇān vāñchanti tebhyo 'pi ye || BharSt_3.59 ||
        
  THE BEASTS THAT DON'T EAT GRASS

  Unschooled in music, poetry, and art,
    Man is a beast, a hornless, tailless beast;
   He doesn't eat the grass; for this at least
  The other beasts may well be glad at heart.
  sāhitya-saṅgīta-kalā-vihīnaḥ
  sākṣāt paśuḥ puccha-viṣāṇa-hīnaḥ |
  tṛṇaṃ na khādann api jīvamānas
  tad bhāga-dheyaṃ paramaṃ paśūnām || BharSt_1.12 ||
  WHY MEN BEG

  Is there a man of spirit who would beg
    In broken words that stumble with his sobbing,
  Harsh sobs of him who fears a surly "No!"
    And all to ease his belly's empty throbbing?

  None but the man who sees his wretched wife
    Sad always, sees her worn and ragged skins,
  Sees sad-faced babies tugging at their folds
    With screams that tell how fiercely hunger hurts.
  dīnā dīna-mukhaiḥ sadaiva śiśukairākṛṣṭa-jīrṇāmbarā
  krośadbhiḥ kṣudhitair niranna-vidhurā dṛśyā na ced gehinī |
  yācñā-bhaṅga-bhayena gadgada-gala-truṭyad-vilīnākṣaraṃ
  ko dehīti vadet sva-dagdha-jaṭharasyārthe manasvī pumān || BharSt_3.21 ||
  THE WISE MISOGYNIST

  The wise misogynist, poor soul,
  To self-deceit is given;
  For heaven rewards his self-conrrol,
  And women swarm in heaven.
  sva-para-pratārako 'sau
  nindati yo 'līka-paṇḍito yuvatīḥ |
  yasmāt tapaso 'pi phalaṃ
  svargaḥ svarge 'pi cāpsarasaḥ || BharSt_2.72 ||
  NECTAR AND POISON

  All nectar and all poison lives
    In woman's changing states;
  For she is nectar when she loves,
    And poison when she hates.
  nāmṛtaṃ na viṣaṃ kiñcid etāṃ muktvā nitambinīm |
  saivāmṛta-latā raktā viraktā viṣa-vallarī || BharSt_2.44 ||
  THE ONE THING NEEDFUL

  Why should I study scripture, sacred lore,
  Or any good, big book? Why get a store
  Of pious actions, anxiously performed—
  And win a humble tent in heaven, no more?

  The knowledge of myself is all I need
  To give me lasting joy, to burn the seed
    Of the interminable pain of life—
  Let pious peddlers show their wares and plead.
  kiṃ vedaiḥ smṛtibhiḥ purāṇa-paṭhanaiḥ śāstrair mahā-vistaraiḥ
  svarga-grāma-kuṭī-nivāsa-phaladaiḥ karma-kriyā-vibhramaiḥ |
  muktvaikaṃ bhava-duḥkha-bhāra-racanā-vidhvaṃsa-kālānalaṃ
  svātmānanda-pada-praveśa-kalanaṃ śesair vāṇig-vṛttibhiḥ || BharSt_3.71 ||
        
  THE TWO THINGS THAT MATTER

  Why all this talk and foolish chatter?
  There are just two things that really matter:
  A buxom, young, and frisky wife;
  Or else a lonely forest-life.
  kim iha bahubhir uktair yukti-śūnyaiḥ pralāpairdvayam
  iha puruṣāṇāṃ sarvadā sevanīyam |
  abhinava-mada-līlā-lālasaṃ sundarīṇāṃ
  stana-bhara-parikhinnaṃ yauvanaṃ vā vanaṃ vā || BharSt_2.39 ||
  UNINTELLIGIBLE VIRTUE

  Are palace-joys so incomplete?
    Is song a despicable pleasure?
  And is there anything so sweet
    As clasping her you love and treasure?

  Yet pious men account these things
  As vain as flickering candlelight
  'Neath dancing moths on troubled wings;
  And to the woods they take their flight.
  ramyaṃ harmya-talaṃ na kiṃ vasataye śravyaṃ na geyādikaṃ
  kiṃ vā prāṇa-samāsamāgama-sukhaṃ naivādhika-prītaye |
  kintu bhrānta-pataṅga-kṣapavanavyālola-dīpāṅkura-
  cchāyā-cañcalam ākalayya sakalaṃ santo vanāntaṃ gatāḥ || BharSt_3.80 ||
        
  THE LINES OF FATE

  If thorn-plants in the desert leafless be,
    The spring is not to blame.
  If owls in broadest daylight cannot see,
    The sun should feel no shame.
  If in the plover's bill no raindrops fall,
    'Twere wrong to blame the cloud.
  The lines that fate has written once for all,
    Are never disallowed.
  patraṃ naiva yadā karīra-viṭape doṣo vasantasya kim
  nolūko 'py avaokate yadi divā sūryasya kiṃ dūṣaṇam |
  dhārā naiva patanti cātaka-mukhe meghasya kiṃ dūṣaṇam
  yat pūrvaṃ vidhinā lalāṭa-likhitaṃ tan mārjituṃ kaḥ kṣamaḥ || BharSt_1.93 ||
  POVERTY

  The moon by night, the sun by day
  Continue in their heavenly way;
  One rag they have, one ragged cloud
  To serve them both as robe and shroud.
  Poor things!
  yenaivāmbarakhaṇḍena saṃvīto niśi candramāḥ |
  tenaiva ca divā bhānur aho daurgatyametayoḥ ||
        
  HOW HARD FATE GRIPS

  The snake and elephant are caged;
  The moon and sun must meet eclipse;
  The prudent are in strife engaged
  With poverty. How hard fate grips!
  ravi-niśākarayor graha-pīḍanaṃ
  gaja-bhujaṅgamayor api bandhanam |
  matimatāṃ ca vilokya daridratāṃ
  vidhir aho balavān iti me matiḥ || BharSt_1.91 ||
  WHEN MY LOVE DRAWS NIGH

  When my love draws nigh,
    When his voice I hear,
  Why am I all eye?
    Why am I all ear?
  न जाने सम्मुखायाते
  प्रियाणि वदति प्रिये ।
  प्रयान्ति मम गात्राणि
  श्रोत्रतां किमु नेत्रताम् ||
  (Amaru)
  THE HERMIT

  I seem to see a hermit good:
  He has no pride, he begs his food;
  From man-made laws his acts are free;
  He seeks no man's society;
  He has no care for common ways
  Of giving, getting all his days;
  He stitches up his garment ragged
  With wayside tatters, torn and jagged;
  No false conceit his fancy haunts—
  Eternal peace is all he wants.
  bhikṣāsī jana-madhya-saṅga-rahitaḥ svāyatta-ceṣṭaḥ sadā
  hānā-dāna-virakta-mārga-nirataḥ kaścit tapasvī sthitaḥ |
  rathyākīrṇa-viśīrṇa-jīrṇa-vasanaḥ samprāpta-kanthāsano
  nirmāno nirahaṅkṛtiḥ śama-sukhābhogaika-baddha-spṛhaḥ || BharSt_3.95 ||
        
  WHY GO TO COURT?

  I am not fashion's changing sport,
  I never acted, sang, nor hated;
  What figure should I cut at court?
  I am no lady languid-gaited.
  na naṭā nā viṭā na gāyakā na ca sabhyetara-vāda-cuñcavaḥ |
  nṛpam īkṣitum atra ke vayaṃ stana-bhārān amitā na yoṣitaḥ || BharSt_3.56 ||
  IMPOSSIBLE!

  The consecrated saints of old
    Who lived on water, leaves, and air,
  Went mad with love when they beheld
    A face that showed how maids are fair.

  And if the common men who eat
    Their rice and milk and curds and ghee,
  Should curb the wish for things so sweet,
    The mountains would fly oversea.
  viśvāmitra-parāśara-prabhṛtayo vātāmbu-parṇāśanās
  te 'pi strī-mukha-paṅkajaṃ sulalitaṃ dṛṣṭvaiva mohaṃ gatāḥ |
  śālyannaṃ sa-ghṛtaṃ payo-dadhi-yutaṃ ye bhuñjate mānavās
  teṣām indriya-nigraho yadi bhaved vindhyaḥ plavet sāgare || BharSt_2.80 ||
        
  HINDRANCES
  
  'Twould not be hard, through life's gray sea
    To find the track;
  But fawn-eyed women hinder me,
    And hold me back.
  saṃsārodadhinistārapadavī na davīyasī |
  antarā dustarā na syuryadi re madirekṣaṇāḥ || BharSt_2.33 ||
        
  DIVINE VISION

  My love is in a distant land,
  And yet I see her where I stand.
  The gods have vision less divine,
  Because the eye of love is mine.
  दिव्यचक्षुरहं जातः 
  सरागेणापि चेतसा /
  इहस्थो येन पश्यामि 
  देशान्तरगतां प्रियाम् //
  सुभाषितावलिः (of Vallabhadeva) १२०८
  WHY MY POEMS DIED

  The critics all were jealous,
  The patrons full of pride,
  The public had no judgment;
  And so my poems died.
  boddhāro matsara-grastāḥ
  prabhavaḥ smaya-dūṣitāḥ |
  abodhopahatāḥ cānye
  jīrṇam aṅge subhāṣitam || BharSt_1.2 ||

Relatives

  RELATIVES

  I saw some great, wild elephants who
    Were gathered in a ring;
  They saw some men with a lassoo,
    And they began to sing:

  "We fear no fire nor goad nor sling,
    Nor any man that lives;
  We do not fear a single thing
    Except our relatives.

  "For relatives are selfish, mean,
    And always setting traps:
  We understand what we have seen;
    Perhaps we know—PERHAPS.

  "Girls give us hopes, too often vain;
    Cows give us tallow grease;
  Our relatives give us a pain;
    The clergy give us peace.

  "A thirsty bee will kiss a flower,
    And then extract the honey;
  A relative will praise your power,
    And carry off your money.

  "An elephant will bathe his skin,
    Then dust it till it's black;
  A relative will praise his kin,
    And stab them in the back.

  "We fear no fire nor goad nor sling,
    Nor any man that lives;
  We do not fear a single thing
    Except our relatives:"

        — From the _Ramayana_
  [Ramayana, really!]
  
  śrūyante hastibhir gītāḥ 
  ślokāḥ padma vane purā |
  pāśa hastān narān dṛṣṭvā 
  śṛṇu tān gadato mama || 6-16-6
  
  nāgnirnānyāni śastrāṇi 
  na naḥ pāśā bhayāvahāḥ |
  ghorāḥ svārthaprayuktāstu 
  jñātayo no bhayāvahāḥ || 6-16-7

  upāyamete vakṣyanti 
  grahaṇe nātrasaṃśayaḥ |
  kṛtsnād bhayājjñātibhayam 
  sukaṣṭam viditam ca naḥ || 6-16-8

  vidyate goṣu sampannam 
  vidyate jñātito bhayam |
  vidyate strīṣu cāpalyam 
  vidyate jñātito bhayam || 6-16-9

  yathā madhukarastarṣād
  rāsam vindanna tiṣṭhati |
  tathā tvamapi tatraiva 
  tathānāryeṣu sauhṛdam || 6-16-13

  yathā pūrvam gajaḥ snātvā
  gṛhya hastena vai rajaḥ |
  dūṣayatyātmano deham 
  tathānāryeṣu sauhṛdam || 6-16-15

  A RULE OF LIFE

  To wealth and wisdom give your days,
  Like one whom age and death would spare;
  Yet hourly walk in righteous ways,
  As if Death had you by the hair.

  —From the _Hitopadesha_
  अजरामरवत् प्राज्ञो विद्यामर्थं च चिन्तयेत्। 
  गृहीत इव केशेषु मृत्युना धर्ममाचरेत् ॥
  (हितोपदेश)
  THE SLAVE TO HER MASTER

  My love is all in vain;
    Bid hope depart.
    My heart!

  Yet thrills in me again
    What will not bear
    Despair.

  Beloved, give to me
    The joy unknown
    Alone;

  For slavery keeps from thee,
    Lord of my life!
    Thy wife.
             — From Kalidasa's _Malavika_
  दुल्लहो पिओ तस्सिं भव हिअअ णिरासं ।
  अम्हो अपङ्गओ मे पफ़्फ़ुरइ किंपि वामो ॥ ४ ॥

  [दुर्लभः प्रियः तस्मिन्भव हदय निराशम् ।
  अम्ब हे अपाङ्गको मे प्रस्फुरति किमपि वामः ।]
  (मालविकाग्निमित्रम् Act 2)
  A FAITHFUL FRIEND

  To bring hard matters to an end,
  One needs to have a faithful friend:
  To see an object in the night,
  Even eyes must have a candle's light.
             — From Kalidasa's _Malavika_
  अर्थं सप्रतिबन्धं प्रभुरधिगन्तुं सहायवानेव । 
  दृश्यं तमसि न पश्यति दीपेन विना सचक्षुरपि ॥  (मालविकाग्निमित्रम्)
  A FAITHLESS FRIEND

  Whoever trusts a faithless friend
    And twice in him believes,
  Lays hold on death as willingly
    As when a mule conceives.
        — From the _Panchatantra_
  sakṛd duṣṭaṃ ca yo mitraṃ 
  punaḥ sandhātum icchati | 
  sa mṛtyum upagṛhṇāti 
  garbham aśvatarī yathā ||

  [alt: अगम्यानि पुमान् याति यो सेव्यांश् च निषेवते । 
  स मृत्युम् उपगृह्णाति गर्भम् अश्वतरी यथा ॥ (पञ्चतन्त्र)]
  FRIENDSHIP'S BROTHERS

  To give us birth we need a mother,
  For second birth we need another:
  And friendship's brothers seem by far
  More dear than natural brothers are.
              — From the _Panchatantra_
  एकं प्रसूयते माता द्वितीयं वाक्प्रसूयते । 
  वाग्जातमधिकं प्रोचुः सोदर्यादपि बान्धवात् ॥
  (पञ्चतन्त्र)
  THE PERVERSITY OF FATE

  I see a dog, but not a stone;
  I find a stone, the dog is flown;
  If dog and stone at once I view,
  The king's dog! Damn! What can I do?
         —From the _Anthology_
  शुनि दृष्टे न पाषाणः
  पाषाणे श्वा न दृश्यते । 
  दृष्टे शुनि च पाषाणे 
  राजश्वा किं नु कुर्महे ॥

  https://books.google.com/books?id=sMdDAAAAYAAJ&pg=PA382&lpg=PA382

  HEEDLESSNESS

  Old age, an awful tigress, growls:
  And shafts of sickness pierce the bowels;
  Life's water trickles from its jar—
  'Tis strange how thoughtless people are.
                 — From Bhartṛhari
  vyāghrīva tiṣṭhati jarā paritarjayantī
  rogāś ca śatrava iva praharanti deham |
  āyuḥ parisravanti bhinna-ghaṭā-divāmbho
  lokas tathāpy ahitam ācaratīti citram || BharSt_3.38 ||
        
  OLD AGE

  Gone long ago are they who gave us birth;
  Old friends are memories upon this earth;
  Our lives are undermined and daily sink,
  Like trees upon the river's sandy brink.
                 — From Bhartṛhari
  vayaṃ yebhyo jātāś cira-parigatā eva khalu te
  samaṃ yaiḥ saṃvṛddhāḥ smṛti-viṣayatāṃ te 'pi gamitāḥ |
  idānīm ete smaḥ pratidivasam āsanna-patanā
  gatās tulyāvasthāṃ sikatilanadī-tīra-tarubhiḥ || BharSt_3.48 ||
  THE CHESS-GAME

  Where there were scattered pieces on the board,
    There now is one;
  Next, many slaughtered pieces are restored,
    Then all are gone:
  The dice are day and night; the board is life;
    Time and again
  Death plays a fearful chess-game with his wife—
    The pawns are men.
                 — From Bhartṛhari
  yatrānekaḥ kvacid api gṛhe tatra tiṣṭhaty athaiko
  yatrāpy ekas tad anu bahavas tatra naiko 'pi cānte |
  itthaṃ nayau rajani-divasau lolayan dvāv ivākṣau
  kālaḥ kalyo bhuvana-phalake kraḍati prāṇi-śāraiḥ || BharSt_3.42 ||
  MANU AND THE FISH

  I
  There was a gentle, holy sage
  Named Manu, in a former age.
  The woes of life he would not blink;
  For many years he did not wink.

  With ragged clothes and frowsy hair
  He lived beside a stream. And there
  He saw a fish who thus began
  To speak to him. "O holy man,

  "I am a little fish, you see;
  And bigger fishes frighten me.
  For bigger fishes eat the small;
  It is their nature, once for all.

  "So dreadful terror weighs me down;
  Besides, I fear that I shall drown.
  Then save me. Some day I will do
  An equal favor, sir, to you:"

  II
  So Manu, when he heard his wish,
  Stretched forth a hand, and took the fish,
  And dropped him in a water-jar
  That was as bright as moonbeams are.

  And in the jar the little fish
  Had everything his heart could wish.
  He grew and thrived on food and fun,
  For Manu loved him like a son.

  At last he grew too big by far
  To live within the water-jar.
  He said: "Good Manu, I would thank
  You very kindly for a tank."

  So Manu took him to a tank
  Eight miles in breadth from bank to bank,
  And twice as long. There, free from fears,
  He lived and grew for many years.

  III
  And when he grew too big to play
  There in a comfortable way,
  He said to Manu: "Pray deliver,
  And put me in the Ganges River.

  "And I will never show you spite,
  But some day help you, as is right.
  My growth has not been selfish; it
  Has happened for your benefit:"

  Kind Manu, anxious to deliver
  His friend, went to the Ganges River,
  And left him happy. As before
  He grew in time a little more.

  And then he said to Manu: "Dear,
  I can no longer wiggle here.
  My holy friend, be good to me,
  And take me quickly to the sea:"

  So Manu took him tenderly
  And traveled quickly to the sea.
  The fish tried not to weigh too much,
  And to be nice to smell and touch.

  IV
  The fish, when he had reached the ocean,
  Smiled at his holy friend's devotion,
  And said: "O kind and holy man,
  You do as much as fathers can.

  "And now 'tis time for me to do
  A little something, dear, for you.
  For you must know, my holy friend,
  The world is hastening to its end.

  "A dreadful time is near at hand
  For all the things that move or stand;
  There comes a flood that has no bound,
  And everybody will be drowned.

  "So build a ship and build it strong:
  Put ropes on board both stout and long.
  And one thing further you will need,
  Neat packages of every seed.

  "Embark then with the seven seers,
  And wait, good Manu, free from fears,
  Until I come. And you will see
  A horn upon the head of me.

  "Till then, farewell. Do not delay.
  The danger grows from day to day:"

  v
  Then Manu packed most carefully
  The seeds, and straightway put to sea.
  His good ship gently rose and fell
  Upon the ocean's mighty swell.

  He longed to see the friendly fish,
  Who came in answer to the wish.
  He seemed a floating mountain dread;
  A horn was growing on his head.

  So Manu, feeling less forlorn,
  Fastened a rope about the horn,
  And felt the ship glide speedily
  Over the dancing, salty sea.

  But when the wind began to roar
  And ocean thundered more and more,
  The tossing, shaken ship began
  To stagger like a drunken man.

  No land remained to cheer them there,
  But only water, sky, and air;
  No life through all those many years
  Save Manu, fish, and seven seers.

  But Manu, all those many years,
  Went sailing with the seven seers;
  The fish pulled on with might and main
  And did not weary nor complain.

  At last he did, however, stop
  Beside the highest mountain-top,
  And bade them tie the ship; and they
  Call it Ship Mountain to this day.

  VI
  And then, with wide, unwinking eyes,
  The fish, to Manu's great surprise,
  Declared: "I saved the seven seers
  From death and agonizing fears;

  "For I am Brahma. And my friend,
  Kind Manu, who has seen the end
  Of all the world, shall make again
  Gods, devils, animals, and men:'

  And so he disappeared. But they,
  Amazed, departed on their way,
  While kindly Manu made again
  Gods, devils, animals, and men.

  Now all have heard who had the wish
  The tale of Manu and the fish.
  And everyone who takes it in,
  Shall be forever free from sin.
               — From the _Mahabharata_
  [I]
  03185001  vaiśaṁpāyana uvāca
  03185001a tataḥ sa pāṇḍavo bhūyo mārkaṇḍeyam uvāca ha
  03185001c kathayasveha caritaṁ manor vaivasvatasya me
  03185002  mārkaṇḍeya uvāca
  03185002a vivasvataḥ suto rājan paramarṣiḥ pratāpavān
  03185002c babhūva naraśārdūla prajāpatisamadyutiḥ
  03185003a ojasā tejasā lakṣmyā tapasā ca viśeṣataḥ
  03185003c aticakrāma pitaraṁ manuḥ svaṁ ca pitāmaham
  03185004a ūrdhvabāhur viśālāyāṁ badaryāṁ sa narādhipaḥ
  03185004c ekapādasthitas tīvraṁ cacāra sumahat tapaḥ
  03185005a avākśirās tathā cāpi netrair animiṣair dr̥ḍham
  03185005c so ’tapyata tapo ghoraṁ varṣāṇām ayutaṁ tadā

  03185006a taṁ kadā cit tapasyantam ārdracīrajaṭādharam
  03185006c vīriṇītīram āgamya matsyo vacanam abravīt

  03185007a bhagavan kṣudramatsyo ’smi balavadbhyo bhayaṁ mama
  03185007c matsyebhyo hi tato māṁ tvaṁ trātum arhasi suvrata
  03185008a durbalaṁ balavanto hi matsyaṁ matsyā viśeṣataḥ
  03185008c bhakṣayanti yathā vr̥ttir vihitā naḥ sanātanī
  03185009a tasmād bhayaughān mahato majjantaṁ māṁ viśeṣataḥ
  03185009c trātum arhasi kartāsmi kr̥te pratikr̥taṁ tava

  [II]
  03185010a sa matsyavacanaṁ śrutvā kr̥payābhipariplutaḥ
  03185010c manur vaivasvato ’gr̥hṇāt taṁ matsyaṁ pāṇinā svayam
  03185011a udakāntam upānīya matsyaṁ vaivasvato manuḥ
  03185011c aliñjare prākṣipat sa candrāṁśusadr̥śaprabham

  03185012a sa tatra vavr̥dhe rājan matsyaḥ paramasatkr̥taḥ
  03185012c putravac cākarot tasmin manur bhāvaṁ viśeṣataḥ

  03185013a atha kālena mahatā sa matsyaḥ sumahān abhūt
  03185013c aliñjare jale caiva nāsau samabhavat kila
  03185014a atha matsyo manuṁ dr̥ṣṭvā punar evābhyabhāṣata
  03185014c bhagavan sādhu me ’dyānyat sthānaṁ saṁpratipādaya

  03185015a uddhr̥tyāliñjarāt tasmāt tataḥ sa bhagavān muniḥ
  03185015c taṁ matsyam anayad vāpīṁ mahatīṁ sa manus tadā
  03185016a tatra taṁ prākṣipac cāpi manuḥ parapuraṁjaya
  03185016c athāvardhata matsyaḥ sa punar varṣagaṇān bahūn

  03185017a dviyojanāyatā vāpī vistr̥tā cāpi yojanam

  [III]
  03185017c tasyāṁ nāsau samabhavan matsyo rājīvalocana
  03185017e viceṣṭituṁ vā kaunteya matsyo vāpyāṁ viśāṁ pate

  03185018a manuṁ matsyas tato dr̥ṣṭvā punar evābhyabhāṣata
  03185018c naya māṁ bhagavan sādho samudramahiṣīṁ prabho
  03185018e gaṅgāṁ tatra nivatsyāmi yathā vā tāta manyase
  03185019a evam ukto manur matsyam anayad bhagavān vaśī
  03185019c nadīṁ gaṅgāṁ tatra cainaṁ svayaṁ prākṣipad acyutaḥ
  03185020a sa tatra vavr̥dhe matsyaḥ kiṁ cit kālam ariṁdama

  03185020c tataḥ punar manuṁ dr̥ṣṭvā matsyo vacanam abravīt
  03185021a gaṅgāyāṁ hi na śaknomi br̥hattvāc ceṣṭituṁ prabho
  03185021c samudraṁ naya mām āśu prasīda bhagavann iti
  03185022a uddhr̥tya gaṅgāsalilāt tato matsyaṁ manuḥ svayam
  03185022c samudram anayat pārtha tatra cainam avāsr̥jat
  03185023a sumahān api matsyaḥ san sa manor manasas tadā
  03185023c āsīd yatheṣṭahāryaś ca sparśagandhasukhaś ca vai

  [IV]
  03185024a yadā samudre prakṣiptaḥ sa matsyo manunā tadā
  03185024c tata enam idaṁ vākyaṁ smayamāna ivābravīt
  03185025a bhagavan kr̥tā hi me rakṣā tvayā sarvā viśeṣataḥ

  03185025c prāptakālaṁ tu yat kāryaṁ tvayā tac chrūyatāṁ mama
  03185026a acirād bhagavan bhaumam idaṁ sthāvarajaṅgamam
  03185026c sarvam eva mahābhāga pralayaṁ vai gamiṣyati

  03185027a saṁprakṣālanakālo ’yaṁ lokānāṁ samupasthitaḥ
  03185027c tasmāt tvāṁ bodhayāmy adya yat te hitam anuttamam
  03185028a trasānāṁ sthāvarāṇāṁ ca yac ceṅgaṁ yac ca neṅgati
  03185028c tasya sarvasya saṁprāptaḥ kālaḥ paramadāruṇaḥ

  03185029a nauś ca kārayitavyā te dr̥ḍhā yuktavaṭākarā
  03185029c tatra saptarṣibhiḥ sārdham āruhethā mahāmune
  03185030a bījāni caiva sarvāṇi yathoktāni mayā purā
  03185030c tasyām ārohayer nāvi susaṁguptāni bhāgaśaḥ

  03185031a nausthaś ca māṁ pratīkṣethās tadā munijanapriya
  03185031c āgamiṣyāmy ahaṁ śr̥ṅgī vijñeyas tena tāpasa
  03185032a evam etat tvayā kāryam āpr̥ṣṭo ’si vrajāmy aham
  03185032c nātiśaṅkyam idaṁ cāpi vacanaṁ te mamābhibho
  03185033a evaṁ kariṣya iti taṁ sa matsyaṁ pratyabhāṣata
  03185033c jagmatuś ca yathākāmam anujñāpya parasparam

  [V]
  03185034a tato manur mahārāja yathoktaṁ matsyakena ha
  03185034c bījāny ādāya sarvāṇi sāgaraṁ pupluve tadā
  03185034e nāvā tu śubhayā vīra mahormiṇam ariṁdama
  03185035a cintayām āsa ca manus taṁ matsyaṁ pr̥thivīpate
  03185035c sa ca tac cintitaṁ jñātvā matsyaḥ parapuraṁjaya
  03185035e śr̥ṅgī tatrājagāmāśu tadā bharatasattama
  03185036a taṁ dr̥ṣṭvā manujendrendra manur matsyaṁ jalārṇave
  03185036c śr̥ṅgiṇaṁ taṁ yathoktena rūpeṇādrim ivocchritam
  03185037a vaṭākaramayaṁ pāśam atha matsyasya mūrdhani
  03185037c manur manujaśārdūla tasmiñ śr̥ṅge nyaveśayat
  03185038a saṁyatas tena pāśena matsyaḥ parapuraṁjaya
  03185038c vegena mahatā nāvaṁ prākarṣal lavaṇāmbhasi
  03185039a sa tatāra tayā nāvā samudraṁ manujeśvara
  03185039c nr̥tyamānam ivormībhir garjamānam ivāmbhasā
  03185040a kṣobhyamāṇā mahāvātaiḥ sā naus tasmin mahodadhau
  03185040c ghūrṇate capaleva strī mattā parapuraṁjaya

  03185041a naiva bhūmir na ca diśaḥ pradiśo vā cakāśire
  03185041c sarvam āmbhasam evāsīt khaṁ dyauś ca narapuṁgava
  03185042a evaṁbhūte tadā loke saṁkule bharatarṣabha
  03185042c adr̥śyanta saptarṣayo manur matsyaḥ sahaiva ha

  03185043a evaṁ bahūn varṣagaṇāṁs tāṁ nāvaṁ so ’tha matsyakaḥ
  03185043c cakarṣātandrito rājaṁs tasmin salilasaṁcaye
  03185044a tato himavataḥ śr̥ṅgaṁ yat paraṁ puruṣarṣabha
  03185044c tatrākarṣat tato nāvaṁ sa matsyaḥ kurunandana

  03185045a tato ’bravīt tadā matsyas tān r̥ṣīn prahasañ śanaiḥ
  03185045c asmin himavataḥ śr̥ṅge nāvaṁ badhnīta māciram
  03185046a sā baddhā tatra tais tūrṇam r̥ṣibhir bharatarṣabha
  03185046c naur matsyasya vacaḥ śrutvā śr̥ṅge himavatas tadā
  03185047a tac ca naubandhanaṁ nāma śr̥ṅgaṁ himavataḥ param
  03185047c khyātam adyāpi kaunteya tad viddhi bharatarṣabha

  [VI]
  03185048a athābravīd animiṣas tān r̥ṣīn sahitāṁs tadā
  03185048c ahaṁ prajāpatir brahmā matparaṁ nādhigamyate
  03185048e matsyarūpeṇa yūyaṁ ca mayāsmān mokṣitā bhayāt
  03185049a manunā ca prajāḥ sarvāḥ sadevāsuramānavāḥ
  03185049c sraṣṭavyāḥ sarvalokāś ca yac ceṅgaṁ yac ca neṅgati
  03185050a tapasā cātitīvreṇa pratibhāsya bhaviṣyati
  03185050c matprasādāt prajāsarge na ca mohaṁ gamiṣyati

  03185051a ity uktvā vacanaṁ matsyaḥ kṣaṇenādarśanaṁ gataḥ
  03185051c sraṣṭukāmaḥ prajāś cāpi manur vaivasvataḥ svayam
  03185051e pramūḍho ’bhūt prajāsarge tapas tepe mahat tataḥ
  03185052a tapasā mahatā yuktaḥ so ’tha sraṣṭuṁ pracakrame
  03185052c sarvāḥ prajā manuḥ sākṣād yathāvad bharatarṣabha

  03185053a ity etan mātsyakaṁ nāma purāṇaṁ parikīrtitam
  03185053c ākhyānam idam ākhyātaṁ sarvapāpaharaṁ mayā
  03185054a ya idaṁ śr̥ṇuyān nityaṁ manoś caritam āditaḥ
  03185054c sa sukhī sarvasiddhārthaḥ svargalokam iyān naraḥ
  THOUGHTS ON HAVING ONE'S WIFE
        STOLEN BY A GIANT

  From the _Ramayana_. This is the lament of the hero Rama, when
  his wife Sita is carried away by Ravan, the giant king of Ceylon.

  They say that as the seasons move,
    Our sorrow gently fades away;
  But I am far from her I love
    And sorrow deepens every day.

  That she is gone, is not my woe;
    That she was reft, is not my pain;
  The thought that agonizes so
    Is this; her youth is spent in vain.

  Blow, breezes, blow to her dear face;
    Blow back to me her kisses sweet:
  Through you we taste a glad embrace,
    And in the moon our glances meet.

  When she was torn away from me,
    "My lord! My love!" was all her cry,
  Which tortures me incessantly;
    My heart is poisoned, and I die.

  I burn upon an awful pyre;
    My body wastes by day and night;
  Her loss is fuel to feed the fire
    That burns so pitilessly white.

  If I could leave each loving friend,
    Could sink beneath the sea, and sleep,
  Perhaps the fire of love would end,
    If I could slumber in the deep.

  One thought consoles my worst distress;
    Through this I live: I cannot die
  While she lies down in loveliness
    Upon the selfsame earth as I.

  The sun-parched rice, no longer wet,
    Lives on, while earth her moisture gives;
  The root of love supports me yet,
    For they have told me that she lives.

  Though giants hem her round, yet soon
    She shall be freed, and shall arise
  As radiantly as the moon
    From clouds that darken autumn skies.

  When shall I pierce the giant's breast
    With shafts that suck his life away,
  That give my tortured darling rest
    And all her absent griefs allay?

  When shall I feel the close embrace
    Of my good goddess, as in dreams?
  When kiss her smile, while on her face
    The water born of gladness gleams?

  When shall I pluck from out my heart—
    A heart by woes of absence torn—
  The pain of life from love apart,
    Forget it, like a garment worn?
  śokaḥ ca kila kālena 
  gaccatā hy apagaccati |
  mama ca apaśyataḥ kāntām 
  ahany ahani vardhate || 6-5-4
  
  na me duhkham priyā dūre
  na me duhkham hṛteti ca |
  tad eva anuśocāmi 
  vayo 'syā hy ativartate || 6-5-5

  vāhi vāta yataḥ kanyā 
  tām spṛṣṭvā mām api spṛśa |
  tvayi me gātra-saṃsparśaḥ 
  candre dṛṣṭi-samāgamaḥ || 6-5-6

  tan me dahati gātrāṇi
  viṣam pītam iva āśaye |
  hā nātheti priyā sā mām
  hriyamāṇā yad abravīt || 6-5-7

  tadviyogendhanavatā 
  taccintā vipulārciṣā |
  rātriṃ divaṃ śarīraṃ me 
  dahyate madanāgninā || 8 ||
  
  avagāhyārṇavaṃ svapsye
  saumitre bhavatā vinā |
  kathaṃ cit prajvalan kāmaḥ 
  samāsuptaṃ jale dahet || 9 ||

  bahvetat kāmayānasya 
  śakyametena jīvitum |
  yadahaṃ sā ca vāmorur
  ekāṃ dharaṇim āśritau || 10 ||

  kedārasyeva kedāraḥ 
  sodakasya nirūdakaḥ |
  upasnehena jīvāmi 
  jīvantīṃ yacchṛṇomi tām || 11 ||

  kadā tu khalu susśoṇīṃ   śatapatrāyatekṣaṇām |
  vijitya śatrūn drakṣyāmi   sītāṃ sphītāmiva śriyam || 12 ||

  kadā nu cārubimbauṣṭhaṃ   tasyāḥ padmamivānanam |
  īṣadunnamya pāsyāmi   rasāyanam ivāturaḥ || 13 ||

  tau tasyāḥ saṃhatau pīnau   stanau tālaphalopamau |
  kadā nu khalu sotkampau   hasantyā māṃ bhajiṣyataḥ || 14 ||

  sā nūnam asitāpāṅgī 
  rakṣomadhyagatā satī |
  mannāthā nāthahīneva 
  trātāraṃ nādhigacchati || 15 ||

  kadā vikṣobhya rakṣāṃsi 
  sā vidhūyotpatiṣyati |
  vidhūya jaladānnīlāñ 
  śaśilekhā śaratsviva || 16 ||

  svabhāvatanukā nūnaṃ 
  śokenānaśanena ca |
  bhūyastanutarā sītā 
  deśakālaviparyayāt || 17 ||

  kadā nu rākṣasendrasya   nidhāyorasi sāyakān |
  sītāṃ pratyāhariṣyāmi   śokamutsṛjya mānasaṃ || 18 ||

  kadā nu khalu māṃ sādhvī 
  sītāmarasutopamā |
  sotkaṇṭhā kaṇṭhamālambya 
  mokṣyatyānandajaṃ jalam || 19 ||

  kadā śokamimaṃ ghoraṃ 
  maithilī viprayogajam |
  sahasā vipramokṣyāmi 
  vāsaḥ śukletaraṃ yathā || 20 ||
  THE FORTUNATE FOOL

  God to the fool a way has shown,
  A way unfailing, all his own,
    To hide his lack of sense;
  For each, however great a fool,
  Among the wise may wear the jewel
    Called Silence.
  svāyattam ekānta-guṇaṃ vidhātrā
  vinirmitaṃ chādanam ajñatāyāḥ |
  viśeṣataḥ sarva-vidāṃ samāje
  vibhūṣaṇaṃ maunam apaṇḍitānām || BharSt_1.7 ||
  FORESIGHT

  From loving girls, ye wise, refrain;
  'Tis little pleasure, longer pain.
  But love three females none the less,
  Compassion, Wisdom, Friendliness.
  For swelling breasts of lovely girls,
  Trembling beneath their strings of pearls,
  And hips with jingling girdles—well,
  They do not help you much in hell.
               — From Bhartṛhari
  viramata budhā yoṣit-saṅgāt sukhāt kṣaṇa-bhaṅgurāt
  kuruta karuṇā-maitrī-prajñā-vadhū-jana-saṅgamam |
  na khalu narake hārākrāntaṃ ghana-stana-maṇḍalaṃ
  śaraṇam athavā śroṇī-bimbaṃ raṇan-maṇi-mekhalam || BharSt_2.67 ||
        
  PROXIES

  When righteous acts must needs be done,
  When time of service has begun,
    In caring for the servant crowd,
  In the begetting of a son,
    No proxies are allowed.
                 — From the _Hitopadesha_
  āśritānāṃ bhṛtau svāmi-sevāyāṃ dharma-sevane |
  putrasyotpādane caiva na santi pratihastakāḥ || 33 ||     
  A PRAYER

  O father wind, friend light, and earth my mother!
  O kinsman water, heaven's space my brother!
  I bow, I pray: with you in union blest
  May I be good, in brightest wisdom smother
  The dark, and sink at last in God to rest.
                   — From Bhartṛhari
  mātar medini tāta māruti sakhe tejaḥ subandho jala
  bhrātar vyoma nibaddha eṣa bhavatām antyaḥ praṇāmāñjaliḥ |
  yuṣmat-saṅga-vaśopajāta-sukṛta-sphāra-sphuran-nirmala-
  jñānāpāsta-samasta-moha-mahimā līye para-brahmaṇi || BharSt_3.100 ||
        
    SIMPLE JUSTICE

  If, maiden of the lotus eye,
    Your anger hurts you so,
  'Tis right you should not let it die,
    You hardly could, you know.

  But once I gave you an embrace,
    To keep it would be pain;
  And once I kissed your willing face,
    Give me that kiss again.
                      — From Amaru
  kopas tvayā yadi kṛto mayi paṅkajākṣi 
  so 'stu priyas tava kim asti vidheyam anyat |
  āśleṣam arpaya madarpitapūrvam uccair 
  uccaiḥ samarpaya madarpitacumbanaṃ ca // VidSrk_21.37 *(671) //
  ONE FATE OF TWO

  One fate of two for the jasmine flower,
  The same for the wise and good;
  To shine at the head of all the world,
  Or to wither in the wood.
  kusuma-stavakasyeva
  dvayī vṛttir manasvinaḥ |
  mūrdhni vā sarva-lokasya
  śīryate vana eva vā || BharSt_1.33 ||
  GENTLENESS
  To gentleness the ruffians bend,
    And gentlefolk no less;
  It moves relentless to its end—
    So fierce is gentleness.
                 — From the _Mahabharata_
  []
  POT-EAR'S AWAKENING

  From the Ramayana. When the giant citadel in Ceylon was invested
  by Rama and his army, the giant king determined to call to his
  assistance his most redoubtable subject, Pot-ear. The giant was normally
  awake only one day every six months. He must therefore be awakened
  before he can employ his great strength and courage in the giant
  cause.

  I
  They started forth, the giant band
  Obedient to their king's command,
  With flesh and blood as tempting food,
  With wreaths and perfumes, sweet and good.

  And so they came to Pot-ear's door,
  Where stretched the cave a league and more
  On every side, where blossoms sweet
  Poured fragrance forth, a guest to greet.

  And all that mighty giant band
  Before his snoring scarce could stand;
  They tottered, but with spirit brave
  They fought their way into the cave.

  There Pot-ear stretched this way and that
  Just like a mountain tumbled flat,
  Hideous in his slumber deep,
  For he was very sound asleep.

  They saw him bristle, saw him shake;
  They heard him hissing like a snake;
  They felt his breathing like a storm
  That blew them from his ugly form.

  They saw his nostrils sink and swell,
  His throat that yawned like gates of hell;
  The dreadful, sprawling form they saw
  That smelt of dinners eaten raw.

  They made a mountain of the food
  That they had brought, so sweet and good;
  Beside his bed the mountain rose
  Of deer and boars and buffaloes.

  They grasped their trumpets glittering bright
  As moonbeams shining in the night;
  Impatiently they blew and blew,
  And screamed and howled and shouted, too.

  Through all the tumult loud and deep
  Pot-ear lay snoring, fast asleep;
  They saw he did not mind their clamor
  And seized a stone, or club, or hammer.

  They tumbled boulders on his chest,
  To see if they could break his rest.
  They beat a hundred rub-a-dubs
  With fists and hammers, bars and clubs.

  The only answer was a snore
  A little deeper than before
  That blew away the giant band;
  Before his breath that could not stand.

  More sternly yet the giants strove:
  With sticks and whips and goads they drove
  Horses and elephants abreast, Asses
  and camels on his chest.

  They dubbed and pounded without pity,
  Until the tumult filled the city;
  They made the woods and mountains shake,
  But giant Pot-ear would not wake.

  Then anger filled each giant breast;
  They swore that they would break his rest.
  One last attack they made at length
  With all their might and wrath and strength.

  And there were some to beat the drum,
  While screamed and howled and shouted some;
  Some bit his ears, while some would tear
  Away great handfuls of his hair.

  A hundred water-pots they poured
  Into his ears, and still he snored;
  They could not shake his slumber deep;
  Pot-ear was very sound asleep.

  Some took a hammer or a club,
  With all their might began to drub
  Upon his chest and limbs and head
  To wake him from his drowsy bed.

  They tied great, spiky stones to ropes
  And dragged them over him; their hopes
  Were disappointed still; for he
  Slept on with peaceful dignity.

  But when a thousand elephants
  Upon his chest began to dance,
  Then Pot-ear, gently tickled, broke
  From bonds of slumber, and awoke.

  He did not heed the falling stones
  Or dubs that rattled on his bones,
  But yawned and raised himself to see
  What breakfast might provided be.

  The giants pointed to the food
  That they had brought, so sweet and good;
  Then Pot-ear in his might arose
  And ate some boars and buffaloes.

  II
  Now when the meat, with wine afloat,
  Had vanished down his mighty throat,
  Dull Pot-ear shook his heavy head,
  And rolled his sleepy eyes, and said:

  "Great matters surely are at stake,
  Or I should hardly be awake;
  And for our giant king, I will
  Cool fire or overturn a hill.

  "But tell me why I am awake;
  Surely great matters are at stake."
  Then giant Post-eye bent him low
  And humbly answered: "Pot-ear, know

  "That neither gods nor devils can
  Affright us—but we fear a man.
  He leads his mountainous apes across
  The strait, for grief at Sita's loss.

  "One ape has burned our splendid town
  And he has struck Prince Aksha down.
  While Ravan, heaven's scourge and thorn,
  Has been by Rama overborne

  "In single fight, and has been spared—
  A thing no god or devil dared:"
  Then Pot-ear rolled his eyes, and said:
  "Well, I will strike the monkeys dead,

  "With Lakshmana and Rama, and
  Before our king as victor stand.
  And monkey flesh and blood shall be
  Your food—the blood of men for me:"

  But when he heard this boasting grim,
  The giant Great-paunch answered him:

  "Nay, first consider everything,
  And listen humbly to the king:
  And after that, it will be right
  To meet your enemy, and fight:"

  So Pot-ear, rising. took a cup
  And drank, to keep his courage up;
  He drank two thousand jars of wine,
  And washed his face, and made it shine.

  Eager, excited, haughty, proud,
  He towered above the giant crowd;
  And as he strode his king to greet,
  Earth trembled underneath his feet.

  III
  On, to his brother's proud abode,
  Half-drunk with sleep and wine, he strode;
  Red-eyed with wrath, he bowed him low,
  And asked, "Why was I wakened so?

  "What danger threatens, or what ill?
  Whom would you like to have me kill?"
  And Ravan, maddened by his wrong.
  Said: "Brother, you have slept too long;

  "So all the wickedness and woe
  That Rama works, you do not know;
  How he has built a bridge, and crossed
  The channel with a monkey host.

  "Behold their strangely hideous shapes!
  See Lanka's groves, one sea of apes!
  They kill our bravest when we fight;
  For who can conquer monkey might?

  "Ah, brother, save your stricken nation,
  Your king reduced to supplication;
  You know I love you and adore you;
  I know how devils flee before you.

  "For there is none on earth so strong
  As you, to right my grievous wrong;
  Scatter and tear the monkey crowds
  Like wind among the autumn clouds:'

  IV
  Then Pot-ear laughed aloud and said:
  "Refusing, Ravan, to be led
  By us and our united sense,
  You suffer now the consequence.

  "Whoever scorns a mighty foe,
  Is certain to be stricken low;
  Whoever fails to guard his own
  High place, is quickly overthrown."

  Then Ravan frowned, and in his grim,
  Gigantic fashion, answered him:
  "Enough of sermonizing! Hold,
  Be silent; do as you are told.

  "Although it might be true I had
  Been headstrong, ill-advised, or mad,
  You, as a younger brother, should
  Forget, and turn the sin to good.

  "So, if you have a warrior's might,
  Or if you love your brother, fight!
  Or if you would not, sulk apart
  While trouble makes me sad at heart.

  "He only is a friend indeed
  Who aids his sinful friend in need,
  Who indefatigably gives
  A helping hand to relatives:"

  V
  Then Pot-ear felt his brother's woe,
  And answered softly, soothing, slow:
  "Forget your sorrow, O my king;
  Take heart at my encouraging.

  "Grieve not. Am I not here, to kill
  The wretched man that thwarts your will?
  And what I said, I said to prove
  My sympathy and brother's love.

  "In battle's forefront I will slay
  Rama, and chase his apes away;
  His severed head shall bring relief
  And joy to you; to Sita, grief.

  "The giants mourning for their slain
  Shall soon forget their grief again;
  For I will wipe their tears away
  As joyfully I slay and slay.

  "Then grieve not, brother mine, but send
  Me forth, your toils and wars to end;
  For none can stand before my face
  With spear or arrow, sword or mace.

  "Soon Rama and his brother shall
  Be dead, with all inimical,
  O King. to you—god, ape, or man;
  I wish to kill them, and I can.

  "Yes, I would drink the sea, eat fire,
  Slay Death himself, should you desire;
  Would crush the mountains, pierce the earth,
  Smite sun and stars, to bring you mirth,

  "And food to me. I sleep so long
  And grow so hungry and so strong
  That earth and heaven and hell would be
  A not too bounteous meal for me.

  "Rejoice, and let your heart incline
  To every pleasure rare and fine,
  And murmur, as you sip your wine:
  'Sita is mine, forever mine.'"

  VI
  But giant Great-paunch counseled so:
  "He likes to talk, but does not know
  The right and wrong, this vulgar whelp;
  King Ravan is our only help.

  "Recall the havoc in our clan
  That Rama wrought in Janasthan;
  The angry lion would you wake,
  Or irritate the sleeping snake?"

  To Ravan turning then, he said:
  "Sita you seized and hither led
  Her; now subdue her to your will,
  If you desire her beauty still.

  "And listen to my plan, wherethrough
  She may bemade to favor you—
  Proclaim in every street today
  That heroes five go forth to slay

  "Prince Rama—Pot-ear, Cleaver, and
  Fork-tongue, Roarer, I who stand
  Before you. We will bravely fight,
  Struggling with all our main and might.

  "And if we conquer, well and good;
  At worst, we shall be dripping blood
  When we return and say that we
  Devoured your bitter enemy.

  "And then proclaim throughout the town
  That Rama has been stricken down
  With Lakshman and the monkey host;
  And give to them you honor most

  "Garlands and slaves and such rewards
  As your rich treasury affords.
  Then, when the rumor has been spread
  Of Rama and his army dead,

  "Go, comfort Sita, speak her fair,
  And give her jewels to deck her hair.
  Her grief, combined with your deceit,
  Will lay her grateful at your feet.

  "She is a woman, helpless, bred
  To ease; and if her lord is dead,
  Or dead to her, she can but wive
  With you, a lord to her alive."

  VII
  Then Pot-ear answered: "I will slay
  Rama, and wipe your fear away;
  When heroes promise you a wonder,
  Their boasting is no empty thunder.

  "While cowards and flatterers like you
  Make ill anticipation true,
  I fight, to win revenge again
  For treasure lost and giants slain:'

  Then Ravan laughed aloud and said:
  "I fancy Great-paunch is afraid;
  Go forth, brave Pot-ear, fight, and save
  My honor: you alone are brave.

  "And when they see your awful shape,
  Terror will seize on every ape;
  And Rama's heart and Lakshman's too
  Will split with dread on seeing you."

  So Ravan, knowing Pot-ear's might,
  Rejoiced, and felt his heart grow light;
  While Pot-ear grasped, his foe to strike,
  His trusty, gold-bespangled pike—

  The pike that gods and devils feared,
  Made of black iron, in spots besmeared
  With many a stain and blotch of red,
  By foemen's blood contributed.

  Then, maddened by the reek of blood,
  To the great city wall he strode,
  While flowers and prayers upon him fell,
  And drums and trumpets wished him well.

  And there he paused and spoke: "Today
  Shall all the monkeys fade away
  Like moths in flame. I would not care
  To hunt them in their forest lair;

  "Indeed, the species often proves
  Quite ornamental in our groves;
  But Rama is the cause of all
  Our woe; so he and his must fall."

  He spoke, nor heeded signs of ill
  That waited on his footsteps still—
  The sky as red as asses' skin,
  The clouds with lightning mingled in,

  The jackals spitting fire on high,
  The throbbing arm, the twitching eye,
  The vulture on his pikestaff croaking,
  The thunderbolt before him smoking.

  He heeded not, but leaped the wall,
  Obeying thus the certain call
  Of Death; and straight the monkey crowds
  Scattered and fled like riven clouds.

  But Angad called: "Why would you flee
  Like apes of mean or no degree?
  Return, and prove your valor; thus
  He shall not prove a match for us:"

  Ashamed, they seized upon great boulders
  Or lifted trees upon their shoulders;
  The trees were splintered, striking him;
  Rocks split upon his every limb.

  While underneath his blows they bled
  And swooned and died, or turned and fled;
  Till Angad called them back to fight,
  Reproving thus their shameless flight:

  "Why save your lives? Why run away
  Like cowards? What will the women say?
  For high-born monkeys may not flee
  Like vulgar apes of no degree.

  "And if we fight our best and die,
  We win a hero's home on high;
  If victory should crown our worth,
  We win a hero's name on earth:"

  "But life is dear to us,' they said,
  "And Pot-ear quickly strikes us dead:"
  Yet,rallying to their prince's name,
  They fought once more for very shame.

  VIII
  They sought for courage in despair;
  For wounds and death they did not care,
  Nor for their scores and hundreds slain
  And eaten on the battle-plain.

  Then great Hanuman hurled a shower
  Of boulders, using all his power;
  But Pot-ear answered with a blow
  From that fierce pike, that laid him low.

  The mountain crag that Nila hurled
  He caught, as through the air it whirled,
  And powdered it, till sparks and flame
  Forth from the tortured missile came.

  Then monkeys by the thousand poured
  Upon him, bit and tore and roared;
  Even as they clawed and gashed and smote,
  They vanished in their hell, his throat.

  Even King Sugriva could not kill
  His foe, nor Angad, struggling still;
  Even Lakshman with an arrow-shower
  Could not subdue his giant power.

  "With Rama only will I fight;"
  Cried Pot-ear: "then will put to flight,
  When he is dead, your warriors all";
  And Rama answered Pot-ear's call

  With shafts that pierced his shaggy chest;
  Then, spitting fire, with bleeding breast,
  He charged, but from his weakened hand
  The weapons dropped upon the sand.

  Yet with bare, weakened hands he slew
  Two hundred monkeys as they flew
  Upon him; then, with tempest-shock
  He hurled a craggy, ponderous rock

  At Rama, who evaded it,
  While Pot-ear, in a foaming fit,
  Turned, licking bloody chops, and slew
  Of monkey warriors not a few,

  And hoarsely laughing, shouted so:
  "Rama, I am no common foe
  Like those that you have slain; this club
  With which I have been wont to drub

  "The gods and devils, you shall feel
  As it prepares you for my meal:"
  An answering arrow cut away
  The right arm and the club: they lay

  Immense: a second arrow sped
  And shore away his bleeding head,
  Which tumbled, grinning horribly,
  Among the fishes in the sea.

  Then choirs of heaven praised the might
  Of Rama in that dreadful fight;
  And monkey faces blossomed bright
  Like lilies in the glad sunlight.

  IX
  But in the city Ravan kept
  A tortured vigil, moaned, and wept:

  "Ah, Pot-ear! Source of all my hope and gladness!
    Where are you flown,
  Leaving unplucked your brother's thorn of sadness,
    Dying alone?

  "My right arm were you; you I trusted only,
    Death's match! And can
  The tamer of high gods be sleeping lonely,
  Slain by a man?

  "The gods rejoice, forgetting all their anguish
    Foes not a few
  Soon will assail the fortress where I languish
    Grieving for you.

  "I am no king, nor Sita's lover longer—
    Till I shall give
  Battle to Rama, prove myself the stronger,
    Vainly I live,

  "And should it be his lot to slay another
    Gladly I die;
  Beside the headless form that was my brother,
    There let me lie."
  See here.
  FORTITUDE

  From the _Mahabharata_. This is the consolation offered
  to who have lost kinsmen in the great epic war.

  All gathering ends in dissipation;
    All heaps, at last, must fall;
  All friendships melt in separation;
    And death at last ends all.

  The coward dies, the hero lives
    A space, but none pass by
  The appointed days that heaven gives—
    Then let us fighting die.

  All lives begin from nothingness,
    Stir for a time, and then
  (No cause for grief) sink into less
    Than nothingness again.

  Death has no enemy nor friend;
    Each in his turn must pass,
  Must helpless to that bidding bend
    As wind-blown blades of grass.

  Our goal is—there. And every day
    The one long caravan
  Moves on with death to point the way.
    Why should it grieve a man?

  For all the saints and scholars old
    Since first the world began
  Are gone, with every fighter bold.
    Why should it grieve a man?

  The fighter slain attains to heaven;
    The other wins the fight;
  To each is much advantage given;
    Fighting is good and right.

  And God, who loves a fighting man,
    Hailing a welcome guest,
  Prepares with all the care he can,
    A seat among the blest.

  Oh, trust yourself, and spare your tears
    For those who fell in strife;
  Not all your sorrow, pain, and fears
    Can bring the dead to life.

  Hundreds of parents, sons, and wives
    Loved you with passion true;
  Gone are the loves of former lives—
    What do they mean to you?

  Time makes us win our strength, and keep;
    Time tells us when to die;
  Time is awake when others sleep;
    Time passes no man by.

  Youth vanishes. and beauty, wealth,
    And love and friendship die
  With life itself and living health;
    But wise men do not cry.

  They do not cry, but fight; and then
    Forget their former woes;
  For pain forgotten is not pain,
    But pain remembered, grows.

  This wisdom heals the heart's dull woes
    As herbs the body's pain;
  When palliating wisdom grows,
    We are not children then.

  One thing remains of all our loves,
    Our wealth and honors won—
  The character that onward moves,
    The deeds that we have done.

  Man has no enemy nor friend
    Except himself; alone
  He knows what deeds to virtue tend,
    What seeds of sin are sown.
  []
  HYMN TO FAITH

  By Faith the holy fire is lit,
    And sung the liturgy;
  We pray to Faith with all our wit
    For prosperous piety.

  Give wealth, O Faith, to me who give
    Such worship as I can;
  Make me respected, make me live
    A rich, religious man.

  The gods have faith from imps, I see;
   For what they will, they can;
  Enlarge my prosperous piety
    As a rich, religious man.

  Gods worship Faith, and pious men
    Must worship every hour;
  If faith first fills our bosoms, then
    Faith gives us wealth and power.

  We call on Faith by morning's light,
    On Faith in glare of day,
  On Faith when evening sinks to night:
  o Faith, give faith to pray!
                       — From the _Rig-Veda_
  (Ṛg Veda 10.151: Śraddhā)
  (E.g. here and here)
  WIPE OUT DELUSION

  Wipe out delusion, O my soul!
    Seek peace in Shiva ever;
  Dwell on the banks whereunder roll
    Floods of the sacred river;

  Who trusts in waves that break and crash,
    In bonfires' flaming flakes,
  In bubble or in lightning-flash,
    In women, streams, or snakes?
                      — From Bhartṛhari
  mohaṃ mārjaya tām upārjaya ratiṃ candrārdha-cūḍāmaṇau
  cetaḥ svarga-taraṅgiṇī-taṭa-bhuvām āsaṅgam aṅgīkuru |
  ko vā vīciṣu budbudeṣu ca taḍil-lekhāsu ca śrīṣu ca
  jvālāgreṣu ca pannageṣu sarid-vegeṣu ca ca-pratyayaḥ || BharSt_3.64 ||
        
  LIFE

  Here is the sound of lutes, and there are screams and wailing;
  Here winsome girls, there bodies old and failing;
  Here scholars' talk, there drunkards' mad commotion—
  Is life a nectared or a poisoned potion?
                                           — From Bhartṛhari
  kvacid vīṇāvādyaṃ kvacidapi ca hāheti ruditam |
  kvacid rāmā ramyā kvacidapi jarājarjaratanuḥ |
  kvacid vidvadgoṣṭhī kvacidapi surāmattakalahaḥ |
  na jāne saṃsāraḥ kimamṛtamayaḥ kiṃ viṣamayaḥ ||         
        
  HOW LONG, O LORD?

  Alone, without desire, at rest,
  In atmosphere of heaven drest,
  My hand for spoon, when shall I be,
  O Shiva, God! from _karma_ free?
                            — From Bhartṛhari
  ekākī niḥspṛhaḥ śāntaḥ pāṇipātro digambaraḥ |
  kadā śambho bhaviṣyāmi karma-nirmūlana-kṣamaḥ || BharSt_3.89 ||
        
  LITERARY CRITICISM

  Established fame is not enough;
  Not all the new is wretched stuff.
  The wise approve where'er they may;
  The fools repeat what critics say.
                      — From Kalidasa's _Malavika_
  purāṇam ity eva na sādhu sarvaṃ
  na cāpi kāvyaṃ navam ity avadyam|
  santaḥ parīkṣyānyatarad bhajante
  mūḍhaḥ para-pratyaya-neya-buddhiḥ||
  (मालविका)
  A JOY FOREVER

  The poet-kings who know the art
  To touch the chord that moves the heart,
    Secure may draw their breath;
  Far from the body of their fame apart
    Lurk fears of age and death.
  jayanti te sukṛtino
  rasa-siddhāḥ kavīśvarāḥ |
  nāsti yeṣāṃ yaśaḥkāye
  jarā-maraṇa-jaṃ bhayam || BharSt_1.24 ||
  HOSPITALITY

  A mat of straw upon the floor,
  Water, and kindly words as well:
  These things at least, if nothing more,
  Are always found where good men dwell.
                         — From the _Hitopadesha_
  तृणानि भूमिरुदकं वाक् चतुर्थी च सूनृता ।
  एतान्यपि सतां गेहे नोच्छिद्यन्ते कदाचन ॥
  HE CAN'T STAND PROSPERITY

  The man who does not steel his heart
    To evil fates and fair,
  Is crumbled by prosperity
    Like unbaked earthenware.
                   — From the _Mahabharata_
  []
  NO NEED OF BOASTING

  The wise who conquer cities vast,
    Win wealth untold, and call
  The mighty earth their own, are not
    Disposed to boast at all.

  The fire cooks silently; the sun
    Shines, but he does not talk:
  The dumb earth bears all moving things
    And all that do not walk.
                      — From the _Mahabharata_
  []
  DRONA'S DEATH
  From the _Mahabharata_. Drona is the eighty-year-old hero who had
  instructed the heroes of both the opposing armies in the use of arms.

  While Drona led the Kuru van,
  The Pandu army to a man
  Was beaten back and strove in vain
  To dominate the battle-plain.

  Where tramp and clash of battle grew
  Like crackling flames in dry bamboo,
  There Drona blazed, a smokeless fire
  That fed on death and mounted higher.

  Where aged Drana's arrows passed,
  Horse, man, and tusker breathed their last.
  Like hissing snakes his arrows sped
  And left a trail of reeking red.

  The Pandu army fought in vain
  Against him. They had all been slain,
  Had not they striven to beguile
  Their foe with false and wicked wile.

  For Bhima cried aloud and said:
  "Old man, your son is stark and dead.

  "As silly simpletons will fight
  For wife and child and money bright,
  So you have fought-and all for one,
  Your dearly loved, your only son:

  "Who studied in the school of strife,
  And paid his lesson with his life.
  Dead on the plain his body lies
  A prey to all that creeps and flies."

  The father heard the lie, and slow
  His hand released the fatal bow;
  He sank, yet roused himself again
  In one strong cry: "Fight on, my men!

  "Destroy the treacherous Pandu line,
  But hope no more for aid of mine.
  All hatred dies from out my breast;
  Remains religion's peaceful rest."

  His foe believed the Brahman's word
  And darted with uplifted sword
  To pierce him through, while all the men
  And all the horses shrieked in pain.

  But Drona, in ecstatic prayer,
  Knew not his foe was standing there;
  Wrapped in inviolable fire,
  He thought on God with pure desire.

  We saw his lifted face; we heard
  His murmuring lips pronounce the word
  "Amen!" We felt him pray; at last
  We knew his hero soul had passed.

  For while his body tumbled dead,
  A flame flashed from his cloven head;
  His soul flew in the flame above
  To dwell with God in deathless love.

  There were but five of mortal birth
  Who saw his spirit leave the earth;
  Who heard the choirs of angels sing
  Divinely in their welcoming;

  Saw heaven's everlasting fire
  Flash out, and flicker, and expire;
  And knew that he was with the saints
  Where God's love wearies not nor faints.

  But all could see the bloody corse,
  By arrows torn and trampling horse;
  All sorrowed for the evil done
  Save one insatiate foe alone,

  Who scorned our hero's eighty years
  And scant hair gray behind the ears;
  He hacked the body from the head,
  To show his hatred for the dead.

  And all the army fled away;
  Where Drona died, they could not stay;
  But Drona's spirit dwells on high
  Among the stars that light the sky.
  []
  THE THIRSTY FOOL

  A thirsty fool had labored much
    To reach a river fair;
  Then would not drink, perceiving such
    A lot of water there.

  "Why don't you drink?" a neighbor cried
    Who saw the thing befall;
  "How can I?" Simpleton replied;
    "I couldn't drink it all:'

  "Suppose you leave a little bit,"
    Said neighbor, "Do you think
  The king would punish you for it?"
    The booby would not drink.

  Just like a fool! He sees a thing
  That terrifies his heart;
  He loses time in dallying,
  And never gets a start.
                 — From the _Kathasaritsagara_
  kaścinmugdho 'dhvagastīrtvā
  kṛcchrāt tṛṣṇāturo 'ṭavīm |
  nadīṃ prāpyāpi na papau 
  vīkṣāṃcakre paraṃ jalam || 237 ||

  tṛṣito 'pi pibasyambhaḥ 
  kiṃ nety ukto 'tra kenacit |
  iyatkathaṃ pibāmīti 
  mandabuddhir uvāca tam || 238 ||

  kiṃ daṇḍayati rājā tvāṃ 
  sarvaṃ pītaṃ na cet tvayā |
  iti tenopahasito 'py 
  ambu mugdhaḥ sa nāpibat || 239 ||
            
  evaṃ na śaknuvantīha
  yad yat kartum aśeṣataḥ |
  yathāśakti na tasyāṃśam
  api kurvanty abuddhayaḥ || 240 ||
  PESSIMISM

  Our happiness is past; a curse
    On sin and lack of truth!
  Yet each tomorrow will be worse,
    For earth has lost her youth.

  Fraud and illusion crowd the time;
    Conduct and virtue flee;
  Religion seeks a happier clime—
    The worst is yet to be.
                     — From the _Mahabharata_
  []
  OPTIMISM

  Toward Death we move with every breath;
    Death dogs us every day;
  However far we journey, Death
    Is never far away.

  We laugh to see the rising sun,
    And laugh to see him set;
  Nor think that when the day is done,
    Our days are fewer yet.

  Our hearts are warm to each new spring,
    Each summer, winter, fall;
  But what the passing seasons bring
    Is only Death to all.

  As log collides with log upon
    The sea, and parts again,
  So friend and gold and wife and son
    Love and abandon men.

  As if a traveler should meet
    A hurrying caravan,
  And say:"I too with willing feet
    Will follow as I can;"

  So to the long parade we cleave
    That with the world began:
  Then do not grieve, you cannot leave
    The social caravan.

  The hours of youth grow ever less;
    No river climbs the hill;
  Then turn your thoughts to happiness,
    Which is your portion still.
                     — From the _Ramayana_

            
  sahaiva mṛtyurvrajati 
  saha mṛtyurniṣīdati .
  gatvā sudīrghamadhvānaṃ 
  saha mṛtyurnivartate .. 21..
                        
  nandantyudita āditye 
  nandantyastamite ravau |
  ātmano nāvabudhyante 
  manuṣyā jīvitakṣayam || 23 ||

  hṛṣyantyṛtumukhaṃ dṛṣṭvā
  navaṃ navamihāgatam .
  ṛtūnāṃ parivartena 
  prāṇināṃ prāṇasaṅkṣayaḥ .. 24..
  
  yathā kāṣṭhaṃ ca kāṣṭhaṃ ca sameyātāṃ mahārṇave .
  sametya ca vyapeyātāṃ kālamāsādya kaṃ cana .. 25..
  evaṃ bhāryāśca putrāśca jñātayaśca vasūni ca .
  sametya vyavadhāvanti dhruvo hyeṣāṃ vinābhavaḥ .. 26..

  yathā hi sārthaṃ gacchantaṃ 
  brūyāt kaścit pathi sthitaḥ .
  ahamapyāgamiṣyāmi 
  pṛṣṭhato bhavatām iti .. 28..

  evaṃ pūrvairgato mārgaḥ 
  pitṛpaitāmaho dhruvaḥ .
  tamāpannaḥ kathaṃ śoced
  yasya nāsti vyatikramaḥ .. 29..

  vayasaḥ patamānasya 
  srotaso vānivartinaḥ .
  ātmā sukhe niyoktavyaḥ 
  sukhabhājaḥ prajāḥ smṛtāḥ .. 30..
  
  THE THIEF'S SONG
  The _Chaura-panchashika_  of the poet Bilhana, who lived in Kashmir
  in the eleventh century. The thief has stolen a princess' heart, and
  has been thrown into prison, on the discovery of the intrigue, by the
  irate father. While awaiting the king's pleasure, he writes his song,
  which comes to the royal ear, procuring him liberty and the legitimation
  of his love. The verbal trick of the translation is found also
  in the Sanskrit.

  As then she was, I think of her today:
    The face that blossomed as she woke from sleep,
  The slender waist, the golden champaks gay,
    The self-surrendering love; and I must weep
    For magic happiness I could not keep.

  If I could see her once again today,
    Fair as the moon, as beautifully pale,
  Full-bosomed, love-sick, bearing queenly sway
    O'er youth and charm, that only would avail
    To heal my fever, and to make me hale.

  If I could see her lotus-eyes today,
    The breast that into sloping shoulders slips,
  Would I not clasp her in my arms straightway
    And drink the maddening honey of her lips,
    Drunk like the bee that from the lotus sips!

  In prison I remember her today:
    Dark curls against the pallor of her cheek;
  The soft resistance as she strove to stay
    My eager love with arms around my neck—
    Yet shamed, and even in her resisting, meek.

  Awaiting death, I think of her today:
    Of her sweet face, her timid, downward glance,
  Her eyes that in their restlessness betray
    The madness of love's long and waking trance—
    Queen-swan among love's flowering lily-plants!

  If I could see her in my cell today,
    If arms that yearn for her could but receive her,
  My best of love should comfort her, should slay
    The absence and the sorrows that bereave her,
    I'd close my eyes, and never, never leave her.

  A vision comes to comfort me today,
    A slender form that gives to dance a grace
  Unknown before with beauties that obey
    Love's bidding, and a pale but shining face,
    And earrings that in air strange patterns trace.

  And I remember in my bonds today,
    How she, with soft, smooth sandal-powder sweet,
  And musk diffusing pungent perfume, lay
    Upon her couch, how arching brows would greet
    Her lovely eyes, like lips that kissing meet.

  Here, chained and fettered, I recall today,
    The slender form, eyes veiled in modest fear,
  The wine-sweet lips I kissed in loving play,
    The musk, the saffron of my own Kashmir,
    Betel, and camphor, that to her were dear.

  The crowning moment I recall today,
    When all her soul is given to my lips,
  When, clad in love's warm, golden, glad army,
    My darling from the hated palace slips,
    Like to the moon delivered from eclipse.

  But slighter joys are in my mind today,
    How once a lovers' quarrel checked our glee;
  Then when I sneezed, the princess would not say
    "God bless you!" but with silent coquetry
    Stuck blossoms in her hair, to madden me.

  Another picture visits me today:
    The drops of weariness that oft would seek
  To make upon her face a pearl inlay
    When love had left her pale and worn and weak;
    The golden earring that would fret her cheek.

  I seem to see her lovely breast today,
    The skirt that tripped her quick steps on the floor,
  The glance that modesty would lead astray
    And love bring back to me, the lips grown sore
    Because I would be kissing evermore.

  I seem to see my princess-bride today
    Moving with swanlike, undulating grace,
  And in her hand a red ashoka-spray,
    Pearl necklace on her breast in close embrace,
    Quick smiles that light the pallor of her face.

  I see her gold-bespangled dress today
    Held as a frail defending shield, the pain
  Of my too eager passion to allay,
    Clutched tightly as she struggles once again
    For very shame to leave me—but in vain.

  Her golden bracelets haunt my thoughts today,
    Her restless eyes that pierce a gloom like this
  As memories that none can take away,
    The teeth of pearl, red lips, the secret bliss,
    The wealth of hair that fresh-picked blossoms kiss.

  That wealth of hair I seem to see today
    When ribbons break and flowers begin to fall;
  Then heaven is opened in the dazzling ray
    Of her dear smile; at love's imperious call
    We sink in bliss that none may share at all.

  And I remember in my cell today
    How she would come to find me through the night.
  Guided by beams illumining her way
    From lamps that glitter with a gemlike light
    On her shamed face, and mine with kindness bright.

  Well I remember thee, my love, today:
    Thy startled eyes as of a gentle deer,
  Thy body wasting at the least delay
    Of love, thy graceful gait, thy teeth so dear—
    Delights of heaven transplanted to Kashmir!

  I hear the echo of thy laugh today:
    I see thy bosom quiver in sheer glee;
  I see the necklace, darting beams that stray
    About thy neck; sure, Love has planted thee
    Upon a hill, his bright flower-flag to be!

  Yes, I can hear through dungeon-walls today
    Sweet flatteries of thine, when, soon or late,
  Passion grew weary in its house of clay;
    I hear the parrot quaintly imitate,
    Learning soft words to utter to her mate.

  Even as in prison I recall today
    The limp, surrendered form, the luscious hair,
  The half-shut eyes, the swanlike, queenly play
    In love's bright lotus-pool, I cannot bear,
    In death or life, to be without her there.

  If I could see her once again today
    At sunset, see her fawnlike, gracious eyes,
  If on her heavenly bosom I could lay
    My cheek and rest—oh, I should quite despise
    The saint, the king, the blest in Paradise.

  For I remember fervently today
    Her beauty perfect in its every part,
  To which all other lovely women pay
    Their homage, for 'tis far beyond their art—
    Queen of love's drama, mistress of my heart!

  I could not, if I would, forget today
    Even for a moment, such a wondrous wife,
  So young, so helpless that she seems to pray
    For pity, stabbed by love as by a knife,
    Nearer than garments are, more dear than life.

  The vision of her beauty comes today
    To make all other beauty seem awry.
  To shame the pride of women, and to slay
    Men's hearts by hundreds; and I know that I,
    Consumed by absent fires, shall surely die.

  Heroic wisdom, teach me how today
    To act, to save a life than life more dear,
  And deeds of heaven's heroes to outweigh;
    For well I know that death is creeping near,
    And for my bride, my brave, true bride, I fear.

  My bride! And must I think of her today
    With bright eyes dimmed by sorrow and by fears,
  With light feet treading slow the future gray;
    I hear her voice come stumblingly through tears,
    And see her bowed by woe through endless years.

  For I have never seen, nor see today
    A face that with my darling's could compare,
  Though all the rival world should challenge. Nay,
    The sweetness of Love's wife is not so rare;
    The moon itself is not so spotless fair.

  Her wealth of wondrous hair I see today,
    Her teeth of pearl; and I remember well
  How sorrow in her presence would not stay;
    How union with my bride would ever spell
    The bliss of heaven; one moment's absence, hell.

  The last grim moment I recall today
    When from her palace slaves that seemed to be
  Resistless slaves of Death, tore me away,
    And all her prayers for me were vain; yet she
    Still gazed and gazed. That gaze still tortures me.

  I think with anguish of her face today—
    The face that in its beauty overbore
  The wonder of the moon's unclouded ray—
    Because upon that face I may not pore
    Again, and yet again, and evermore.

  I think of her, my hope of life, today,
    How she would listen with her mind and heart
  To all I said. My maiden young and gay,
    Thy youth was mine alone, thine artless art,
    And shall be mine again, though death us part.

  And I recall what I have lost today,
    How she would move in such sweet perfume clad
  That bees would gather round her cheek alway;
    The very tinkle that her bracelets had
    When she would fix her hair, will drive me mad.

  And I remember woefully today
    How gently I would waken her, while she
  Would shiver, and her startled eyes would stray,
    Unable yet our love's new day to see—
    She wakes, starts back, then recognizes me.

  And I recall another hour today
    When, jealous, she would leave me. I entreat
  Her, and she does not turn her face away
    But weeps when kissed. I fall before her feet:
    "Be gracious to thine humble servant, sweet.

  "Thou canst not think that I would fall today
    In thy bedchamber, victim to the glance
  Of others, I, the subject of thy sway—
    Far rather would I perish in a trance
    Of thy dear kisses, playfulness, and dance."

  I wonder, as I think of her today,
    If she be heaven's queen come down to earth,
  Or Shiva's bride, or Vishnu's. Or she may
    Be God's own thought of beauty in mortal birth,
    To drive men mad with woman's perfect worth.

  There is no man that lives on earth today
    Who could depict her; none but me has seen
  Such beauty. Should the king of heaven essay
    The task, with memories of his heavenly queen,
    He might succeed. None other could, I ween.

  And I remember in my cell today
    How she would stop her ears in graceful fun.
  No other face like hers is lovely.
    Yea, And if her form blots out beneath the sun
    All other beauty, why, what harm is done?

  No doubt her heavenly features keep today
    The pallid splendor of the autumn moon,
  And trip the saint on his ascetic way:
    Would I might gain the glory lost so soon,
    And lose no more forever such a boon!

  Ah, yes, if I might plunge again today
    Beneath love's waters that so long I miss,
  Might save love's lotus-blossom from decay
    And share with her the heaven of a kiss,
    I'd give my life for one such moment's bliss!

  Though lovely women walk the world today
    By tens of thousands, there is none so fair
  In all that exhibition and display
    With her most perfect beauty to compare—
    This is my consolation, and my care.

  As then she floated, so she floats today
    A swan-queen, down the river of my mind
  O'er waves that thrill beneath her plumage gay;
    She leaves my admiration far behind,
    And flying dust of blossoms turns me blind.

  In sadness I remember her today,
   The daughter of my king, whom love has driven
  To me with timid, eager eyes—then say,
    Was she a goddess, or a nymph of heaven,
    Angel, or fairy, to my longings given?

  I cannot for an hour forget today
    From dawn until the evening sinks in night
  How, sleeping, she would gather beauty; nay,
    Her form seemed slenderer, her breast more white,
    Her gems more radiant yet, by morning's light.

  Her golden beauty comes to me today,
    Her slow, coquettish grace, as she would lie
  In shamed humility upon her couch, would pray
    For maddening love and kisses. Oh, might I
    Taste that elixir now, I could not die.

  I could not die, might I enjoy today
    That bliss so deep as almost to be woe;
  We hardly knew if it were war or play,
    So fiercely did we clasp each other, so
    Fire-hot with passion did our faces glow.

  How could I, after that, endure today
    The subtlest fascinations of another?
  Far rather would I end my life straightway;
    Come quickly, Death! Come as a kindly brother,
    With one swift act my spark of life to smother.

  God Shiva has his poison even today;
    The ocean guards his awful, hidden fire;
  The tortoise bears upon his back alway
    The burden of the earth. However dire
    The things they love, they keep what they desire.










  adyāpi tāṃ kanaka-campaka-dāma-gaurīṃ
  phullāravinda-vadanāṃ tanu-romarājīm
  suptotthitāṃ madana-vihvala-lālasāṅgīṃ
  vidyāṃ pramāda-guṇitām iva cintayāmi || 1 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ śaśi-mukhīṃ nava-yauvanāḍhyāṃ
  pīna-stanīṃ punar ahaṃ yadi gaura-kāntim
  paśyāmi manmatha-śarānala-pīḍitāṅgīṃ
  gātrāṇi saṃprati karomi suśītalāni || 2 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ yadi punaḥ kamalāyatākṣīṃ 
  paśyāmi pīvara-payodhara-bhāra-khinnām
  saṃpīḍya bāḥu-yugalena pibāmi vaktram 
  unmattavan madhukaraḥ kamalaṃ yatheṣṭam || 3 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ nidhuvana-klama-niḥsahāṅgīm
  āpāṇḍu-gaṇḍa-patitālaka-kuntalālim
  pracchanna-pāpa-kṛta-mantharam āvahantīṃ
  kaṇṭhāvasakta-bāhu-latāṃ smarāmi || 4 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ suratajāgaraghūrṇamāna 
  tiryagvalattaralatārakam āyatākṣīm
  śṛṅgāra-sāra-kamalākara-rājahaṃsīṃ 
  vrīḍā-vinamra-vadanām uṣasi smarāmi || 5 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ yadi punaḥ śravaṇāyatākṣīṃ
  paśyāmi dīrgha-viraha-jvaritāṅgayaṣṭim
  aṅgair ahaṃ samupaguhya tato 'ti-gāḍhaṃ
  nonmīlayāmi nayane na ca tāṃ tyajāmi || 6 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ surata-tāṇḍava-sūtradhārīṃ
  pūrṇendu-sundara-mukhīṃ mada-vihvalāṅgīm
  tanvīṃ viśāla-jaghana-stana-bhāra-namrāṃ
  vyālola-kuntala-kalāpavatīṃ smarāmi || 7 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ masṛṇa-candana-paṅka-miśra-
  kastūrikā-parimalottha-visarpi-gandhām
  anyonya-cañcu-puṭa-cumbana-lagna-pakṣma-
  yugmābhirāma-nayanāṃ śayane smarāmi || 8 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ nidhuvane madhu-pāna-raktām
  līlā-dharāṃ kṛśa-tanuṃ capalāyatākṣīm
  kāśmīra-paṅka-mṛganābhi-kṛtāṅgarāgāṃ
  karpūra-pūga-paripūrṇa-mukhīṃ smarāmi || 9 ||


  adyāpi tat kanakagaura-kṛtāṅgarāgaṃ
  prasveda-bindu-vitataṃ vadanaṃ priyāyāḥ
  ante smarāmi rati-kheda-vilola-netraṃ
  rāhūparāga-parimuktam ivendu-bimbam || 10 ||


  adyāpi tan-manasi saṃparivartate me
  rātrau mayi kṣutavati kṣitipāla-putryā
  jīveti maṅgala-vacaḥ parihṛtya kopāt
  karṇe kṛtaṃ kanaka-patram anālapantyā || 11 ||


  adyāpi tat kanaka-kuṇḍala-ghṛṣṭa-gaṇḍam
  āsyaṃ smarāmi viparīta-ratābhiyoge
  āndolana-śramajala-sphuṭa-sāndra-bindu 
  muktāphala-prakara-vicchuritaṃ priyāyāḥ || 12 ||


  adyāpi tat praṇaya-bhaṅga-guru-dṛṣṭi-pātaṃ 
  tasyāḥ smarāmi rati-vibhrama-gātra-bhaṅgam
  vastrāñcala-skhalat-acāru-payodharāntaṃ 
  dantacchadaṃ daśana-khaṇḍana-maṇḍanaṃ ca || 13 ||


  adyāpy aśoka-nava-pallava-rakta-hastāṃ 
  muktāphala-pracaya-cumbita-cūcukāgrām
  antaḥ smitocchvasita-pāṇḍura-gaṇḍa-bhittiṃ
  tāṃ vallabhām-alasa-haṃsa-gatiṃ smarāmi || 14 ||


  adyāpi tat kanakareṇughanorudeśe 
  nyastaṃ smarāmi nakharakṣatalakṣma tasyāḥ
  ākṛṣṭahemarucirāmbaram utthitāyā
  lajjāvaśāt karaghṛtaṃ ca tato vrajantyāḥ || 15 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ vidhṛtakajjalalolanetrāṃ 
  pṛthvīṃ prabhūtakusumākulakeśapāśām
  sindūrasaṃlulitamauktikadantakāntim 
  ābaddhahemakaṭakāṃ rahasi smarāmi || 16 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ galitabandhanakeśapāśāṃ 
  srastasrajaṃ smitasudhāmadhurādharauṣṭhīm
  pīnonnatastanayugoparicārucumban+ 
  muktāvalīṃ rahasi loladṛśam smarāmi || 17 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ dhavalaveśmani ratnadīpa 
  mālāmayūkhapaṭalair dalitāndhakāre
  prāptodyame rahasi saṃmukhadarśanārthaṃ 
  lajjābhayārthanayanām anucintayāmi || 18 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ virahavahninipīḍitāṅgīṃ 
  tanvīṃ kuraṅganayanāṃ surataikapātrīm
  nānāvicitrakṛtamaṇḍanam āvahantīṃ tāṃ 
  rājahaṃsagamanāṃ sudatīṃ smarāmi || 19 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ vihasitāṃ kucabhāranamrāṃ 
  muktākalāpadhavalīkṛtakaṇṭhadeśām
  tat+kelimandaragirau kusumāyudhasya 
  kāntāṃ smarāmi rucirojjvalapuṣpaketum || 20 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ cāṭuśatadurlalitocitārthaṃ 
  tasyāḥ smarāmi surataklamavihvalāyāḥ
  avyaktaniḥsvanitakātarakathyamāna 
  saṃkīrṇavarṇaruciraṃ vacanaṃ priyāyāḥ || 21 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ surataghūrṇanimīlitākṣīṃ 
  srastāṅgayaṣṭigalitāṃśukakeśapāśām
  śṛṅgāravāriruhakānanarājahaṃsīṃ 
  janmāntare 'pi nidhane 'py anucintayāmi || 22 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ praṇayinīṃ mṛgaśāvakākṣīṃ 
  pīyūṣapurṇakucakumbhayugaṃ vahantīm
  paśyāmy ahaṃ yadi punar divasāvasāne 
  svargāpavarganararājasukhaṃ tyajāmi || 23 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ kṣititale varakāminīnāṃ 
  sarvāṅgasundaratayā prathamaikarekhām
  śṛṅgāranāṭakarasottamapānapātrīṃ 
  kāntāṃ smarāmi kusumāyudhabāṇakhinnām || 24 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ stimitavastram ivāṅgalagnāṃ 
  prauḍhapratāpamadanānalataptadeham
  bālām anāthaśaraṇām anukampanīyāṃ 
  prāṇādhikāṃ kṣaṇam ahaṃ na hi vismarāmi || 25 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ prathamato varasundarīṇāṃ 
  snehaikapātraghaṭitām avanīśaputrīm
  haṃhojanā mama viyogahutāśano 'yaṃ 
  soḍhuṃ na śakyateti praticintayāmi || 26 ||


  adyāpi vismayakarīṃ tridaśān vihāya 
  buddhir balāc calati me kim ahaṃ karomi
  jānann api pratimuhūrtam ihāntakāle 
  kānteti vallabhatareti mameti dhīrā || 27 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ gamanam ity uditaṃ madīyaṃ 
  śrutvaiva bhīruhariṇīm iva cañcalākṣīm
  vācaḥ skhaladvigaladāśrujalākulākṣīṃ 
  saṃcintayāmi guruśokavinamravaktrām || 28 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ sunipuṇaṃ yatatā mayāpi 
  dṛṣṭaṃ na yat sadṛśatovadanaṃ kadācit
  saundaryanirjitarati dvijarājakānti 
  kāntām ihātivimalatvamahāguṇena || 29 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ kṣaṇaviyogaviṣopameyāṃ 
  saṅge punar bahutarām amṛtābhiṣekām
  tāṃ jīvadhāraṇakarīṃ madanātapatrām 
  udvattakeśanivahāṃ sudatīṃ smarāmi || 30 ||


  adyāpi vāsagṛhato mayi nīyamane 
  durvārabhīṣaṇakarair yamadūtakalpair
  kiṃ kiṃ tayā bahuvidhaṃ na kṛtaṃ madarthe 
  vaktuṃ na pāryateti vyathate mano me || 31 ||


  adyāpi me niśi divā hṛdayaṃ dunoti 
  pūrṇendusundaramukhaṃ mama vallabhāyāḥ
  lāvaṇyanirjitaratikṣatikāmadarpaṃ 
  bhūyaḥ puraḥ pratipadaṃ na vilokyate yat || 32 ||


  adyāpi tām avahitāṃ manasācalena 
  saṃcintayāmi yuvatīṃ mama jīvitāśām
  nānyopabhuktanavayauvanabhārasārāṃ 
  janmāntare 'pi mama saiva gatir yathā syāt || 33 ||


  adyāpi tadvadanapaṅkajagandhalubdha
  bhrāmyaddvirephacayacumbitagaṇḍadeśām
  līlāvadhūtakarapallavakaṅkaṇānāṃ 
  kvāṇo vimūrcchati manaḥ sutarāṃ madīyam || 34 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ nakhapadaṃ stanamaṇḍale 
  yad dattaṃ mayāsyamadhupānavimohitena
  udbhinnaromapulakair bahubhiḥ samantāj 
  jāgarti rakṣati vilokayati smarāmi || 35 ||


  adyāpi kopavimukhīkṛtagantukāmā 
  noktaṃ vacaḥ pratidadāti yadaiva vaktram
  cumbāmi roditi bhṛśaṃ patito 'smi pāde 
  dāsas tava priyatame bhaja maṃ smarāmi || 36 ||


  adyāpi dhavati manaḥ kim ahaṃ karomi 
  sārdhaṃ sakhībhir api vāsagṛhaṃ sukānte
  kāntāṅgasaṃgaparihāsavicitranṛtye 
  krīḍābhirāmeti yātu madīyakālaḥ || 37 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ jagati varṇayituṃ na kaś cic 
  chaknoty adṛṣṭasadṛśīṃ ca parigrahaṃ me
  dṛṣṭaṃ tayor sadṛśayor khalu yena rūpaṃ 
  śakto bhaved yadi saiva naro na cānyaḥ || 38 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ na khalu vedmi kim īśapatnī 
  śāpaṃ gatā surapater atha kṛṣṇalakṣmī
  dhātraiva kiṃ nu jagataḥ parimohanāya 
  sā nirmitā yuvatiratnadidṛkṣayā vā || 39 ||


  adyāpi tannayanakajjalam ujjvalāsyaṃ 
  viśrāntakarṇayugalaṃ parihāsahetor
  paśye tavātmani navīnapayodharābhyāṃ 
  kṣīṇāṃ vapur yadi vinaśyati no na doṣaḥ || 40 ||


  adyāpi nirmalaśaracchaśigaurakānti 
  ceto muner api haret kim utāsmadīyam
  vaktraṃ sudhāmayam ahaṃ yadi tat prapadye 
  cumban pibāmy avirataṃ vyadhate mano me || 41 ||


  adyāpi tat+kamalareṇusugandhagandhi 
  tatpremavāri makaradhvajapātakāri
  prāpnomy ahaṃ yadi punaḥ surataikatīrthaṃ 
  prāṇāṃs tyajāmī niyataṃ tadavāptihetor || 42 ||


  adyāpy aho jagati sundaralakṣapūrṇe 
  'nyānyam uttamaguṇādhikasaṃprapanne
  anyābhir apy upamituṃ na mayā ca śakyaṃ 
  rūpaṃ tadīyam iti me hṛdaye vitarkaḥ || 43 ||


  adyāpi sā mama manastaṭinī sadāste 
  romāñcavīcivilasadvipulasvabhāvā |
  kādambakeśararuciḥ kṣatavīkṣaṇaṃ māṃ 
  gātraklamaṃ kathayatī priyarājahaṃsī || 44 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ nṛpatī śekhararājaputrīṃ 
  saṃpūrṇayauvanamadālasaghūrṇanetrīm
  gandharvayakṣasurakiṃnaranāgakanyāṃ 
  svargād aho nipatitām iva cintayāmi || 45 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ nijavapuḥkṛśavedimadhyām 
  uttuṃgasaṃbhṛtasudhāstanakumbhayugmām
  nānāvicitrakṛtamaṇḍamaṇḍitāṅgī 
  suptotthitāṃ niśi divā na hi vismarāmi || 46 ||


  adyāpi tāṃ kanakakāntimadālasāṅgīṃ 
  vrīḍotsukāṃ nipatitām iva ceṣṭamānām
  agāṃgasaṃgaparicumbanajātamohāṃ tāṃ 
  jīvanauṣadhim iva pramadāṃ smarāmi || 47 ||


  adyāpi tatsuratakelinirastrayuddhaṃ 
  bandhopabandhapatanotthitaśūnyahastam
  dantauṣṭhapīḍananakhakṣataraktasiktaṃ 
  tasyā smarāmi ratibandhuraniṣṭhuratvam || 48 ||


  adyāpy ahaṃ varavadhūsuratopabhogaṃ 
  jīvāmi nānyavidhinā kṣaṇam antareṇa
  tad bhrātaro maraṇam eva hi duḥkhaśāntyai 
  vijñāpayāmi bhavatas tvaritaṃ lunīdhvam || 49 ||


  adyāpi nojjhati haraḥ kila kālakūṭaṃ 
  kūrmo bibharti dharaṇīṃ khalu pṛṣṭabhāge
  ambhonidhir vahati duḥsahavaḍavāgnim 
  aṅgīkṛtaṃ sukṛtinaḥ paripālayanti || 50 ||

  THE STRENUOUS LIFE

  Success the strenuous will reap,
    And not your pensive sinner;
  For when the lion fell asleep,
    He had no deer for dinner.
                  — From the _Hitopadesha_
  उद्यमेन हि सिध्यन्ति कार्याणि न मनोरथैः ।
  न हि सुप्तस्य सिंहस्य प्रविशन्ति मुखे मृगाः ॥
  A SINGLE GRAB

  Remember that a single grab
  Suffices for a fish or crab,
  For fool or woman; and 'tis so
  For sot, cement, or indigo.
                   — From the _Panchatantra_
  वज्रलेपस्य मूर्खस्य नारीणां कर्कटस्य च ।
  एको ग्रहस्तु मीनानां नीलीमद्यपयोस्तथा ॥
  ART IN A PUPIL

  Art in a pupil shows
    The artist doubly well;
  The raindrop turns to pearl
    When falling in a shell.
                   — From Kalidasa's _Malavika_
  पात्रविशेषे न्यस्तं गुणान्तरं व्रजति शिल्पमाधातुः ।
  जलमिव समुद्रशुक्तौ मुक्ताफलतां पयोदस्य ॥ (मालविका)
  FATALISM

  What shall not be, will never be;
    What shall be, will be so:
  This tonic slays anxiety;
    Taste it, and end your woe.
                    — From the _Hitopadesha_
  यदभावि न तद्भावि यद्भावि न तदन्यथा । 
  इति चिन्ताविषघ्नोऽयमगदः किन्न पीयताम् ॥
  EXTRAVAGANCE

  They cook their grain in beryl kettles
    With fuel of sandal-shoots,
  They plough with ploughs of precious metals
    To get the yercum-roots,
  They make a hedge of camphor wood
    About the humblest corn,
  Unhappy fools! who are not good
    On earth where they were born.
  sthālyāṃ vaidūryamayyāṃ pacati tilakaṇāṃś candanair indhanaughaiḥ
  sauvarṇair lāṅgalāgrair vilikhati vasudhām arka-mūlasya hetoḥ |
  kṛtvā karpūra-khaṇḍān vṛttim iha kurute kodravāṇāṃ samantāt
  prāpyemāṃ karm-bhūmiṃ na carati manujo yas topa manda-bhāgyaḥ || BharSt_1.100 ||
  NATURE

  The habits we acquire are little worth;
  The nature that was ours before our birth
  Will master us, while yet we live on earth.
                            — From the _Hitopadesha_
  [maybe?]
  sarvasya hi parīkṣyante svabhāvā netare guṇāḥ |
  atītya hi guṇān sarvān svabhāvo mūrdhni vartate ||
  YOUR NATURE

  Your nature is a thing you cannot beat;
    It serves as guide in everything you do:
  Give a dog all the meat that he can eat,
    You can't prevent his gnawing at a shoe.
                            — From the _Hitopadesha_
  यः स्वभावो हि यस्यास्ति स नित्यं दुरतिक्रमः ।
  श्वा यदि क्रियते राजा तत् किं नाश्नात्य् उपानहम् ॥ ६० ॥
  PREACHING

  He longs, with twigs from lotus-bowers
    To bind an elephant,
  He strives, with softest siris-flowers
    To sever adamant,
  He yearns, with honey-drops alone
    To sweeten ocean's taint,
  Who hopes, with sugar-coated tone
    To make a rogue a saint.
  vyālaṃ bāla-mṛṇāla-tantubhir asau roddhuṃ samujjṛmbhate
  chettuṃ vajra-maṇiṃ śirīṣa-kusuma-prāntena sannahyati |
  mādhuryaṃ madhu-bindunā racayituṃ kṣārāmudher īhate
  netuṃ vāñchanti yaḥ khalān pathi satāṃ sūktaiḥ sudhā-syandibhiḥ || BharSt_1.6 ||
  DEAD LOVE

  In early days, my husband, we
  Vlere one unsevered entity,
  And neither of the lovers knew
  Were I the dearer half, or you.
  Now you are tyrant of my life,
  And I am nothing but your wife.
  Oh, it was hard as stone for me,
  The fruit of life's alluring tree!
                       —From Amaru
  तथाभूदस्माकं प्रथममविभिन्ना तनुरियं
  ततो नु त्वं प्रेयानहमपि हताशा प्रियतमा ।
  इदानीं नाथस्त्वं वयमपि कलत्रं किमपरं 
  मयाप्तं प्राणानां कुलिशकठिनानां फलमिदम् ॥
  HEAVEN ABOVE AND HEAVEN BELOW

  Oh, dwell by Ganges' holy wave
  Where passion's slave his soul may lave;
  Or on the bosom of a girl
  Where strings of pearl would charm a churl.
                        — From Bhartṛhari
  āvāsaḥ kriyatāṃ gaṅge pāpa-hāriṇi vāriṇi |
  stana-dvaye taruṇyā vā manohāriṇi hāriṇi || BharSt_2.38 ||
        
  THE BAD SON

  What profits the begetting of a son,
  So he be neither good nor wise?
  With sightless eyeballs what is to be done?
  They ache and yet they are not eyes.
                        — From the _Hitopadesha_
  ko 'rthaḥ putreṇa jātena
  yo na vidvān na dhārmikaḥ?
  kāṇena cakṣuṣā kiṃ vā?
  cakṣuḥ-pīḍaiva kevalam.
  — Hitopadesha (12)
  ENTER INTO THY CLOSET

  Although thou sink to hell, fly through the air,
    Or flutter o'er the earth and never cease,
  Think not, my soul, to find salvation there:
    Remember God at home, who gives thee peace.
                               — From Bhartṛhari
  pātālam āviśasi yāsi nabho vilaṅghya
  diṅ-maṇḍalaṃ bhramasi mānasa cāpalena |
  bhrāntyāpi jātu vimalaṃ katham ātmanīnaṃ
  na brahma saṃsarasi virvṛtimm eṣi yena || BharSt_3.70 ||
        
  TRY AGAIN

  Do not despise yourself, my son,
    For early ill-success;
  For things that were not, come to be,
    While things that are, grow less.
                    — From the _Mahabharata_
  []
  THE BLESSING OF SILENCE

  The fool among the wise may shine
  A moment, if his dress be fine;
  But
  One moment, while his mouth is shut.
                  — From the _Hitopadesha_
  मूर्खोऽपि शोभते तावत् सभायां वस्त्रवेष्टितः । 
  तावच्च शोभते मूर्खो यावत् किञ्चिन्न भाषते ॥
    SIMPLE DEER-HORN

      I
  Young Deer-horn was a pious youth
  Devoted to religious truth,
  A hermit innocently good
  Who grew to manhood in the wood.

  His mother left him at his birth;
  He only knew one soul on earth,
  His austere father; therefore he
  Grew up in natural piety.

  Now in a kingdom near at hand
  No rain had fallen on the land,
  Prevented by the magic skill
  Of priests the king had treated ill.

  An aged priest advised the king:
  "Propitiate the clergy; bring
  Pure-minded Deer-horn from the wood,
  That hermit innocently good.

  "He dwells in purity afar;
  He does not know what women are:
  Fetch him, and then the rain will fall;
  Of this I have no doubt at all:"

  The counsel pleased the king; he planned
  To entertain the hermit, and
  Invited women of the town
  To go and bring young Deer-horn down.

  But they refused the royal plan,
  Fearing to meet a holy man;
  At last an aged crone's ambition
  Drove her to undertake the mission.

  "If you will give me what I ask;'
  She said, "I can fulfill the task;
  But I require a rich reward
  Of gold and gems, my royal lord:"

  With royal bounty richly laden,
  She took her child, a youthful maiden
  More known as beautiful than good,
  And so departed to the wood.

      II
  She waited till the coast was clear,
  And then she sent her daughter dear
  To interview the hermit who
  Had never learned what women do.

  The maiden found the lad and said:
  "I trust your pious life is led
  Without offense, and that your food
  Of roots and fruits is sweet and good.

  "I trust your father's heart is blest
  With deep religious peace and rest;
  For I am hither come to see
  Your unpretending piety."

  And Deer-horn answered: "Sir, you are
  As radiant as a beaming star;
  I never saw a man like you;
  Then tell me, sir, what shall I do

  "To make you happy? Here are roots,
  Water, a couch of skins, and fruits.
  What vows are yours, most holy sage?
  Where is your pious hermitage?"

  "My hermitage;' the maid replied,
  "Is three long leagues from here, beside
  The river; there I practice now
  A fearfully ascetic vow.

  "For I have sworn that I will greet
  Such other hermits as I meet;
  And I must clasp and kiss you too—
  So my religion bids me do."

  She spurned the fruits that he had offered,
  And in their stead to him she proffered
  Confectionery sweet and good
  That she had brought into the wood.

  She gave him fragrant garlands too,
  And brilliant garments, clean and new;
  She offered wine; and while he quaffed,
  She played and swayed and danced and laughed.

  She played about him with a ball,
  And oft coquettishly would fall
  Upon his bosom, until he
  Took fire from her immodesty.

  At last she saw the deed was done,
  That she had charmed the hermit's son;
  And, gazing o'er her shoulder, fled,
  To make her sacrifice, she said.

  When she had left him, peace and joy
  Departed from the luckless boy;
  Sadly he sighed, by love distressed,
  An aching void within his breast.

  His father, while he sighed, returned,
  Whose eyes with fire ascetic burned,
  Whose life was one devoted prayer,
  Whose nails were overgrown with hair.

  When he beheld his son distressed
  With eye upturned and heaving breast,
  With longing written on his face
  And passion in contentment's place,

  "What troubles you, my dearest son?"
  He asked, "and are your duties done?
  Who has been here with you today?"
  And Deer-horn answered him straightway.

      III
  "A hermit youth with hanging hair,
  Not short, nor very tall, but fair
  And bright as gold, with lotus-eyes,
  Some child of heaven, wondrous wise.

  "He came in beauty like the sun,
  Black eyes, sweet voice, his hair undone
  And hanging soft, dark, fragrant, and
  Encircled by a golden band.

  "A relic on his neck was seen
  That danced like flashing lightnings keen;
  Below it, two soft swellings white
  That thrilled me with a strange delight.

  "Large hips he had, but slender waist
  Which I could see was close embraced
  By a golden belt; I saw it shine
  And it was not at all like mine.

  "And on his ankles something stirred
  That jingled like a cooing bird,
  While on his wrist there tinkled free
  A novel kind of rosary.

  "And as he moved, the beads would sing
  Like gay flamingoes in the spring;
  His pious robe was wondrous fair,
  And quite unlike the garb we wear.

  "His face was beautiful to see;
  His speech was kind and gladdened me;
  His voice was like the nightingale;
  It made me sigh and yearn and pale.

  "And as in spring the forest trees
  Wave beautifully in the breeze,
  So, father, when the wind blew, he
  Shed fragrance like a flowering tree.

  "His hermit locks— I wondered how
  They parted on his noble brow;
  And dangling from each ear, there stirred
  And danced what seemed a brilliant bird.

  "A round, elastic fruit he had
  That bounded from the earth like mad
  When he would strike it merrily—
  'Twas very wonderful to see.

  "He moved and swayed with graceful ease—
  I thought of wind among the trees:
  A wonderful delight and joy
  Came when I saw the godlike boy.

  "He held me in a tight embrace;
  I felt his hair; he pressed his face
  Against my face and made a noise
  That waked in me the strangest joys.

  "Our simple fruits he did not think
  Were good, or water that we drink;
  He gave me other fruits and rare,
  And said: 'This is my humble fare:

  "They were not like the fruits we eat,
  But tasted wonderfully sweet;
  They had a different sort of skin,
  And different was the pulp within.

  "A strange, sweet kind of water he
  Offered with noble piety;
  It filled me with an odd delight,
  And earth grew wobbly to my sight.

  "Sweet garlands with a careless mirth
  He wove, and scattered on the earth;
  Then, glorious as an ancient sage,
  Departed to his hermitage.

  "And since he went, I feel distressed;
  My limbs are burning and my breast;
  I long to go to him today
  Or have him here with me alway.

  "Yes, I will tread the path he trod
  And learn the way he worships God;
  With him I long to make a trial
  Of holy life and self-denial.

  "I find no peace from him apart;
  Religious yearnings fill my heart."

      IV
  "It was a devil, dear my son;
  By foes like these we are undone;
  They walk the earth in conquering charm
  And work religious men much harm.

  "They win us with their cunning wiles,
  Their wondrous beauty and their smiles,
  Then show themselves as demons fell
  And plunge us in the pit of hell.

  "The man who seeks religious peace
  Should keep himself from such as these;
  To ruin us is their delight,
  My pious boy. Forget the sight.

  "And those sweet waters that you had
  Are tasted only by the bad;
  And we ascetics never wear
  A perfumed garland on our hair.

  "Resist the devil, boy"; he said
  And then he hunted for the jade;
  Three days he sought without success
  And ceased for very weariness.

  Meantime, the tempting minx returned,
  And seeing her, young Deer-horn burned;
  "Come quick;" he said, "and let us roam;
  You see my father's not at home.

  "Your hermitage I fain would view";
  So, hand in eager hand, they flew
  And found a boat and floated down
  The river to the royal town.

  No sooner did the hermit gain
  The royal palace than the rain
  Fell, drenching every thirsty part
  And gladdening the sovereign's heart.

  The joyful monarch to the brave,
  Bewildered young ascetic gave—
  Lest he should ever seek release—
  A princess—and her name was Peace.
  See here
    VISION

  Who sees his life in others' life,
    In others' wealth a clod, a weed,
  His mother in his neighbor's wife,
    He sees, he sees indeed.
               — From the _Hitopadesha_
  मातृवत् परदारेषु  परद्रव्येषु लोष्ठवत् ।
  आत्मवत् सर्वभूतेषु  यः पश्यति सः पश्यति ॥
    PEACE

  I would not call a friend or foe mine own,
  A gem or clod, a bed of flowers or stone,
  A serpent or a string of precious pearls,
  A bunch of grasses or a bunch of girls,
  So might I see with calm, unwavering eye
  My peaceful days move softly gliding by,
  The while I murmured in a pious grove
  To Shiva, Shiva, Shiva, all my love.
                 _ From Bhartṛhari
  aho vā hāre vā balavati ripau vā suhṛdi vā
  maṇau vā loṣṭhe vā kusuma-śayane vā dṛṣadi vā |
  tṛṇe vā straiṇe vā mama sama-dṛśo yānti divasāḥ
  kvacit puṇyāraṇye śiva śiva śiveti pralapataḥ || BharSt_3.100*3 ||
        
    I LOVE THE WOODS

  Girl, girl! What mean those tender glances
  Like budding flowers in languid dances?
  Stop, stop! Your art no more entrances.

  I love the woods. My childish madness
  Awakens memories of sadness.
  The world? A straw brings equal gladness.
                 — From Bhartṛhari
  bāle līlā-mukulitam amī mantharā dṛṣṭi-pātāḥ
  kiṃ kṣipyante virama-virama vyartha eṣa śramas te |
  sampraty anye vayam uparataṃ bālyam āsthā vanānte
  kṣīṇo mohas tṛṇam iva jagaj-jālam ālokayāmaḥ || BharSt_2.62 ||
        
    NO COMPROMISE

  Oh, I would have her whole,
    Else leave her free;
  Not clasp her, while her soul
    Is not for me.

  No, let us rather die
    Hopeless, apart,
  If in a lonely sigh
    Heart answers heart.
                  — From Kalidasa's _Malavika_
  अनादरोत्कण्ठितयोः प्रसिध्यता
  समागमेनापि रतिर्न मां प्रति ।
  परस्परप्राप्तिनिराशयोर्वरं
  शरीरनाशोपि समानुरागयोः ॥ १८ ॥

  अनातुरोत्कण्ठितयोः प्रसिध्यता समागमेनापि रतिर्न मां प्रति ।
  परस्परप्राप्तिनिराशयोर्वरं शरीरनाशोहपी समानुरागयोः ॥
  https://books.google.com/books?id=E1SX_OxvEIMC&pg=PA43  
    CAUSE AND EFFECT

  As knowledge in the just
  Increases self-distrust;
  In others, pride and lust—

  Just so, the saint will find
  When lonely, peace of mind;
  Not so the lovesick kind.
                   — From Bhartṛhari
  jñānaṃ satāṃ māna-madādi-nāśaṃ
  keṣāñcid etan mada-māna-kāraṇam |
  sthānaṃ viviktaṃ yamināṃ vimuktaye
  kāmāturāṇām api kāma-kāraṇam ||
        
  NATURAL BEAUTY

  The color on the lily's face
  Is natural. So is maiden grace.
  The bee flits vainly round the flower,
  The fool round beauty's virgin power.
                 — From Bhartṛhari
  līlāvatīnāṃ sahajā vilāsāsta
  eva mūḍhasya hṛdi sphuranti |
  rāgo nalinyā hi nisarga-siddhastatra
  bhramty eva vṛthā ṣaḍ-aṅghriḥ || BharSt_2.47 ||
        
  WOMAN'S WEAPONS

  The skillfully coquettish frown,
  Bashfulness choking laughter down,
  The love-word seeming free from guile,
  The undulating step, the smile—
  These things to every woman true,
  Are ornaments, and weapons too.
                 — From Bhartṛhari
  bhrū-cāturyāt kuṣcitākṣāḥ kaṭākṣāḥ
  snigdhā vāco lajjitāntāś ca hāsāḥ |
  līlā-mandaṃ prasthitaṃ ca sthitaṃ ca
  strīṇām etad bhūṣaṇaṃ cāyudhaṃ ca || BharSt_2.3 ||
        
  A NEGLECTED EDUCATION

  Alas, my foolish, foolish boy.
  Whose nights are spent in thoughtless joy.
  Among the wise as ill you stand,
  As some poor cow in boggy land.
                  — From the _Hitopadesha_
  हा हा पुत्रक नाधीतं
  गतास्वेतासु रात्रिषु ।
  तेन त्वं विदुषां मध्ये
  पङ्के गौरिव सीदसि ॥
  THE FAILURE OF EDUCATION

  Uneducated moths will fly
    Into the blazing fire;
  Ignorant fish will take the hook
    In the bait of their desire.
  And we who know so many things
    Forget the price, and feed
  The creeping lusts that coil us round—
    Oh! We are fools indeed.
                   — From Bhartṛhari
  ajānan dāhātmyaṃ patatu śalabhas tīvra-dahane
  sa mīno 'py ajñānād baḍiśa-yutam aśnātu piśitam |
  vijānanto 'py ete vayam iha viyaj jāla-jaṭilān
  na muñcāmaḥ kānām ahaha gahano moha-mahimā || BharSt_3.18 ||
  YAYATI'S SONG

  Desire is never satisfied
    By winning each desire;
  As fuel, added to the blaze,
    Gluts not the hungry fire.

  Not all the barley in the world
    And rice and gold and kine
  And women, are enough for one—
    Remember, and resign.

  For when our longings and our sins
    Toward every creature cease,
  When deed and thought and word are pure,
    We find eternal peace.

  When all things lose their fear of us,
    And when we find release
  From fear of them, and hate, and hope,
    We have eternal peace.
                     — From the _Mahabharata_
  []
  GOOD-BYE TO SPRING

  The mango trees are bending
    Beneath the fruits they bring;
  The amaranths are spending
    Their flowers with lavish fling;
  The heart of youth is sending
    A sad good-bye to spring.
                      — From Kalidasa's _Malavika_
  अग्रे विकीर्णकुरवकफलजालकहीयमानसहकारं ।
  परिणाममुखमिदमृतोरुत्सुकयति यौवनं चेतः ॥
  USE THE ROD

  The youngsters nowadays run wild
  From petting; whipping makes them mild.
    And therefore I would never pet
  But whip a pupil or a child.
                      — From the _Anthology_
  []
  STRIKE
  Fear fearful things, while yet
    No fearful thing appears;
  When dangers must be met,
    Strike, and forget your fears.

  When all his safety lies
    In fighting, blow for blow,
  The wise man fights and dies,
  And with him dies his foe.
                        — From the _Hitopadesha_
  महतो दूरभीरुत्वम्
  आसन्ने शूरता गुणः ।
  विपत्तौ हि महान् लोके
  धीरताम् अधिगच्छति ॥
  LITTLE CHILDREN

  They show their little buds of teeth
    In peals of causeless laughter;
  They hide their trustful heads beneath
    Your heart. And stumbling after

  Come sweet, unmeaning sounds that sing
    To you. The father warms
  And loves the very dirt they bring
    Upon their little forms.
                  — From Kalidasa's _Shakuntala_
  आलक्ष्य दन्तमुकुलान् अनिमित्त-हासैः 
  अव्यक्त-वर्ण-रमणीय-वचः प्रवृत्तीन् ।
  अङ्काश्रय-प्रणयिनस्तनयान् वहन्तो 
  धन्यास्तदङ्ग-रजसा मलिनी भवन्ति ॥ 
  WHY MEN FIGHT

  Perhaps the warrior, smitten by his foe,
  Will rise to heaven and leave the world below;
    Perhaps the fighting is its own reward;
  No god has told us and we do not know.

  We only know that the applauding beat
  Of eager hands, the joyous shouts that greet
    The sturdy fighter from his foes and friends,
  Are music in his ears, and very sweet.
                   — From Bhartṛhari
  abhimukhanihatasya satastiṣṭhatu tāvajjayo'thavā svargaḥ |
  ubhayabalasādhuvādaḥ śravaṇasukhosau batātyartham || BharSt_1.111 ||
  AFTER LIFE'S FITFUL FEVER

  My mind no longer loves philosophy
  No longer seeks delight in poetry,
  Contemns the paths of doubt so often trod,
  And yearns to be united with its God.
                   — From Bhartṛhari
  praśānta-śāstrārtha-vicāra-cāpalaṃ
  nivṛtta-nānā-rasa-kāvya-kautukam |
  nirasta-niśśeṣa-vikalpa-viplavaṃ
  prapattum anvicchati śūlinaṃ manaḥ ||
        
  THE INTELLIGENT CORPSE

  A beggar in the graveyard cried:
  "Awake, my friend, be satisfied
  To live again and bear the weight
  Of poverty; for I of late
  Am weary grown; my heart is led
  To crave the comfort of the dead."
  The corpse was silent; he was sure
  'Twas better to be dead than poor.
                   — From Bhartṛhari
  उत्तिष्ठ क्षणमेकमुद्वह सखे दारिद्र्यभारं गुरुं 
  श्रान्तस् तावदहं चिरान् मरणजं सेवे त्वदीयं सुखम् । 
  इत्य् उक्तो धनवर्जितेन विदुषा गत्वा श्मशाने शवो 
  दारिद्र्यान् मरणं वरं सुखकरं ज्ञात्वा स तूष्णीं स्थितः ॥  
        
  WISDOM'S SOUP

  A scholar who can merely quote
  Unmastered learning got by rate,
  Is erudition's luckless dupe,
  A spoon to ladle wisdom's soup.

  The fool who hears but cannot prize
  The wisdom of the truly wise,
  He too is erudition's dupe,
  A spoon to ladle wisdom's soup.

  But you, dear reader. if you prize
  This wisdom of the truly wise,
  Will soon be added to the group
  Of tongues that relish wisdom's soup.
                   — From the _Mahabharata_
  यस्य नास्ति निजा प्रज्ञा केवलं तु बहुश्रुतः ।
  न स जानाति शास्त्रार्थं दर्वी सूपरसानिव ॥

  cirayāpi naro mūḍhaḥ  paṇḍitaṃ paryupāsya ve |
  na pāṇḍityaṃ vijānīte  darvī sūparasān iva ||

  10,005.002c*0014_01 ciraṃ hy api jaḍaḥ śūraḥ paṇḍitaṃ paryupāsya ha
  10,005.002c*0014_02 na sa dharmān vijānāti darvī sūparasān iva
  
  10,005.002c*0014_03 muhūrtam api taṃ prājñaḥ paṇḍitaṃ paryupāsya ha
  10,005.002c*0014_04 kṣipraṃ dharmān vijānāti jihvā sūparasān iva
            

Posthumously published

From Bhartrihari

  BEASTS

  Men void of learning, character, and worth,
    Religion, kindness, wisdom, piety,
  Are but a mortal burden on the earth;
    Such men are beasts allowed to wander free.
  yeṣāṃ na vidyā na tapo na dānaṃ
  jñānaṃ na śīlaṃ na guṇo na dharmaḥ |
  te martya-loke bhuvi bhāra-bhūtā
  manuṣya-rūpeṇa mṛgāś caranti || BharSt_1.13 ||
  A CONSOLATION

  If there are famous poets, fit
    To teach the art of poesy,
  So sweetly smooth their verses flit,
    And if they live in poverty—

  That shows the dullness of the king;
    Poets, though poor, are rich in fame.
  Where gems find undervaluing,
    Only the jeweler is to blame.
  śāstropaskṛta-śabda-sundara-giraḥ śiṣya-pradeyāgamā
  vikhyātāḥ kavayo vasanti viṣaye yasya prabhor nirdhanāḥ |
  taj-jāḍyaṃ vasudhādipasya kavayas tv arthaṃ vināpīśvarāḥ
  kutsyāḥ syuḥ kuparīkṣakā hi maṇayo yair arghataḥ pātitāḥ || BharSt_1.15 ||
  All men alike, birth after birth,
  Enter upon a life on earth;
    But he is born indeed, whose house
  Gains glory from his sterling worth.
  parivartini saṃsāre
  mṛtaḥ ko vā na jāyate |
  sa jāto yena jātena
  yāti vaṃśaḥ samunnatim || BharSt_1.32 ||
  The rich man is of noble birth,
  Has learning, sense, and sterling worth;
  Is eloquent, and beauty's mould—
  For every virtue clings to gold.
  yasyāsti vittaṃ sa naraḥ kulīnaḥ
  sa paṇḍitaḥ sa śrutavān guṇajñaḥ |
  sa eva vaktā sa ca darśanīyaḥ
  sarve guṇāḥ kāñcanam āśrayanti || BharSt_1.41 ||
  ALL OR NOTHING

  Vishnu or Shiva—but one god I crave;
      One friend—a lordly king or hermit good;
      One home—a city or a lonely wood;
  One love—a beauty or a desert cave.
  eko devaḥ keśavo vā śivo vā
  hy ekaṃ mitraṃ bhūpatir vā yatir vā |
  eko vāsaḥ pattane vā vane vā
  hy ekā bhāryā sundarī vā darī vā || BharSt_1.69 ||
  Although the strong man be disdained,
    His purpose never bends:
  As when a lighted torch is held
    Flame-down, the flame ascends.
  kadarthitasyāpi hi dhairya-vṛtter
  na śakyate dhairya-guṇaḥ pramārṣṭum |
  adhomukhasyāpi kṛtasya vahner
  nādhaḥ śikhā yāti kadācid eva || BharSt_1.105 ||
  A noble soul, in days of power,
  Is tender as a lotus-flower:
  But when it meets misfortune's shock,
  Grows hard as Himalayan rock.
  sampatsu mahatāṃ cittaṃ
  bhavaty utpala-komalam |
  āpatsu ca mahāśailaśilā-
  saṅghāta-karkaśam || BharSt_1.66 ||
  THE FLATTERER

  By stammering and tumbling down
  You try to smooth the monarch's frown;
  In the farce of life you play the clown.

  What part, I wonder, will you play,
  When age has sucked your strength away,
  And when your ears are fringed with gray?
  gātrair girā ca vikalaś caṭum īśvarāṇāṃ
  kurvann ayaṃ prahasanasya naṭaḥ kṛto 'si |
  taṃ tvāṃ punaḥ palita-varṇaka-bhājam enam
  nāṭyena kena naṭayiṣyati dīrgham āyuḥ ||
        
  Hark to the counsel of the good,
    Although irrelevant it looks;
  Their simple talk is richer food
    And wiser than the best of books.
  paricaritavyāḥ santo yadyapi kathayanti na sadupadeśam |
  yāstveṣāṃ svairakathāstā eva bhavanti śāstrāṇi || BharSt_1.120 ||
  WOMEN'S GLANCES

  What will not women's glances do,
  When man is moved by pity true
  To yield the heart that they pursue?

  They fascinate and gladden him,
  Bewilder, mock, and madden him,
  And at the end they sadden him.
  saṃmohayanti madayanti viḍambayanti
  nirbhartsyanti ramayanti viṣādayanti |
  etāḥ praviśya sadayaṃ hṛdayaṃ narāṇāṃ
  kiṃ nāma vāma-nayanā na samācaranti || BharSt_2.47*1 ||
        
  NOBILITY

  If fate should ever stay the birth
    Of every lily on the earth,
  Do you suppose that swans would scratch.
    Like roosters, in the dunghill patch?
  yadi nāma daivayogāt jagadasarojaṃ kadācidapi jātam,
  avakaranikaraṃ vikirati tatkiṃ kṛkavākuriva haṃsaḥ ? ||
  THE GOLDEN MOUNT

  Why did God make the Golden Mount,
  Fair riches' never-failing fount?
  It never wakens longing in
  Contented breasts that know not sin;

  It never satisfied the mind
  Of men with greedy passions blind;
  Its wealth is for itself, I see;
  It seems quite valueless to me.
  ye santoṣa-nirantara-pramuditas teṣāṃ na bhinnā mudo
  ye tv anye dhana-lubdha-saṅkala-dhiyas tesāṃ na tṛṣṇāhatā |
  itthaṃ kasya kṛte kutaḥ sa vidhinā kīdṛk-padaṃ sampadāṃ
  svātmany eva samāpta-hema-mahimā merur na me rocate || BharSt_3.29 ||
  SORROWS OF SPRING

  When spring comes on the wanderer
    From her he loveth far,
  With cooing songs of nightingales
    And winds from Malabar,

  Though sweet the season, sweet the song,
    His sorrows are so grim
  That even a cup of nectar seems
    A poisoned cup to him.
  madhur ayaṃ madhurair api kokilā
  kala-ravair malayasya ca vāyubhiḥ |
  virahiṇaḥ prahiṇasti śarīriṇo
  vipadi hanta sudhāpi viṣāyate || BharSt_2.82 ||
        
  AN APRIL EVENING

  A little lazy loitering
  With her you love, in early spring,
  Is not a despicable thing—

  A little music in your ear
  From nightingales that warble near
  A smiling bower, is sweet to hear—

  A little converse with a few—
  Not many—first-rate poets who
  Enjoy the moonlight as do you—

  An April evening, taken so,
  Is not without delights to show—
  Believe me! to the few who know.
  āvāsaḥ kila-kiñcitasya dayitā-pārśve vilāsālasāḥ
  karṇe kokila-kāminī-kala-ravaḥ smero latā-maṇḍapaḥ |
  goṣṭhī sat-kavibhiḥ samaṃ katipayair mugdhāḥ sudhāṃśoḥ karāḥ
  keṣāṃcit sukhayanti cātra hṛdayaṃ caitre vicitrāḥ kṣapāḥ || BharSt_2.83 ||
        
  The pious scholar talks and talks
    Of leaving girls alone;
  With tinkling girdle in She walks
    And he must change his tone.
  vacasi bhavati saṅga-tyāgam uddiśya vārtā
  śruti-mukhara-mukhānāṃ kevalaṃ paṇḍitānām |
  jaghanam aruṇa-ratna-granthi-kāñcī-kalāpaṃ
  kuvalaya-nayanānāṃ ko vihātuṃ samarthaḥ || BharSt_2.71 ||
        
  YOUTH

  A bed of poison-flowers is youth,
  A cloud that hides the moon of truth,
  A linked chain of passions fell,
  Source of the hundred woes of hell,
  The dwelling-place of every badness,
  The friend of Love, the seed of madness.
  rāgasyāgāram ekaṃ naraka-śata-mahā-duḥkha-samprāpti-hetur
  mohasyotpatti-bījaṃ jaladhara-paṭalaṃ jñāna-tārādhipasya |
  kandarpasyaika-mitraṃ prakaṭita-vividha-spaṣṭa-doṣa-prabandhaṃ
  loke 'smin na hy artha-vraja-kula-bhavana-yauvanād anyad asti || BharSt_2.29 ||
        
  PERFECT LOVE

  Then only is a perfect love,
    When hearts harmonious wed;
  Love void of harmony must prove
    A union of the dead.
  etat-kāma-phalo loke yad dvayor eka-cittatā |
  anya-citta-kṛte kāme śavayor iva saṅgamaḥ || BharSt_2.35.5 ||
  Graceful amid the forest shade
  Wandered a weary, weary maid;
  Alone, by moonbeams sore opprest,
  Lifting the garment from her breast.
  viśramya viśramya vana-drumāṇāṃ
  chāyāsu tanvī vicacāra kācit |
  stanottarīyeṇa karoddhṛtena
  nivārayantī śaśino mayūkhān || BharSt_2.21 ||
  WOMAN

  Abode of wanton impudence,
  Sin's palace, field of false pretense,
  Whirlpool of doubts, and basket stored
  With tricks and mean deception's hoard,
  Bolt barring heaven's gate too well,
  Wide portal to the house of hell—
  Who made that strange contrivance, woman,
  That poison sweet, which keeps us human?
  āvartaḥ saṃśayānām avinaya-bhuvanaṃ paṭṭaṇaṃ sāhasānāṃ
  doṣāṇāṃ sannidhānaṃ kapaṭa-śata-mayaṃ kṣetram apratyayānām |
  svarga-dvārasya vighno naraka-pura-mukha sarvamāyākaraṇḍaṃ
  strī-yantraṃ kena sṛṣṭaṃ viṣam amṛtamayaṃ prāṇi-lokasya pāśaḥ || BharSt_2.45 ||
        
  THE FEAR OF DEATH

  The joy I felt in life is dead,
  And men's respect lor me is fled:
  My dear-loved friends are all in heaven
  To whom my days were gladly given;
  I rise up slowly with a stick,
  And in my eyes the dark is thick:
  But the body still is obstinate;
  It feared Death soon, it fears him late.
  nivṛttā bhogecchā puruṣa-bahu-māno 'pi galitaḥ
  samānāḥ svar-yātāḥ sapadi suhṛdo jīvita-samāḥ |
  śanair yaṣṭy utthānaṃ ghana-timira-ruddhe ca nayane
  aho mūḍhaḥ kāyas tad api maraṇāpāya-cakitaḥ || BharSt_3.9 ||
        
  VAIN EFFORT

  The joys of home I have resigned,
    But not for higher ends;
  To mercy I was not inclined
    In treating foes as friends;

  Storm, heat, and cold I faced unbent,
    But not to save my soul;
  My days in centered thought were spent,
    My heart in stern control—

  Alas! I did not think of God,
    But wealth, to win and guard;
  The paths the pious tread, I trod,
    And fail of their reward.
  kṣāntaṃ na kṣamayā gṛhocita-sukhaṃ tyaktaṃ na santoṣataḥ
  soḍho duḥsaha-śīta-tāpa-pavana-kleśo na taptaṃ tapaḥ |
  dhyātaṃ vittam ahar-niśaṃ nityamita-prāṇair na śambhoḥ padaṃ
  tat-tat-karma kṛtaṃ yad eva munibhis tais taiḥ phalair vañcitāḥ || BharSt_3.6 ||
        
  EVERYTHING OR NOTHING

  Suppose you have the sweetest song before you,
    The graceful poets of the south beside you,
  Fan-girls behind who winsomely adore you
    With tinkling rings; if nothing be denied you,

  Then you may well be most extremely greedy
    To taste each charming, mortal delectation;
  But if you be in anything left needy,
    Renounce it all and plunge in meditation.
  agre gītaṃ sarasa-kavayaḥ pārśvayor dākṣiṇātyāḥ
  paścāl līlāvalaya-raṇitaṃ cāmara-grāhiṇīnām |
  yady asty evaṃ kuru bhava-rasāsvādane lampaṭatvaṃ
  no cec cetaḥ praviśa sahasā nirvikalpe samādhau || BharSt_3.66 ||
  Since kings are peevish, and their lords
    Like restive horses are,
  I fix my wish and set my mind
    On a high place and far;

  Since age will snatch my body, and
    There waits the final trial
  Of death for all, naught else is wise
    And right but self-denial.
  durārādhyāś cāmī turaga-cala-cittāḥ kṣitibhujo
  vayaṃ tu sthūlecchāḥ sumahati phale baddha-manasaḥ |
  jarā dehaṃ mṛtyur harati dayitaṃ jīvitam idaṃ
  sakhe nānyac chreyo jagati viduṣe 'nyatra tapasaḥ || BharSt_3.77 ||
        
  Is he a Brahman, or a slave,
    Ourcaste, or saint forsooth?
  Or yet perchance a finished sage,
  Skilled in dividing truth?

  Such doubtful chatter meets him, while
    The sage in contemplation
  Pursues his course, devoid alike
    Of pleasure and vexation.
  caṇḍālaḥ kim ayaṃ dvijātir athavā śūdro 'tha kiṃ tāpasaḥ
  kiṃ vā tattva-viveka-peśala-matir yogīśvaraḥ ko 'pi kim |
  ity utpanna-vikalpa-jalpa-mukharair ābhāṣyamāṇā janair
  na kruddhāḥ pathi naiva tuṣṭa-manaso yānti svayaṃ yoginaḥ || BharSt_3.96 ||
        
  THE BETTER PART-II
  Have mountains lost their running streams,
    The hillside nooks their roots,
  The trees their bark-enveloped limbs
    And all delicious fruits?

  Why else should man disgrace himself
    Before a loveless brow
  That scowls in pride of scanty pelf,
    With pain acquired but now?
  kiṃ kandāḥ kandarebhyaḥ pralayam upagatā nirjharā vā giribhyaḥ
  pradhvastā vā tarubhyaḥ sarasa-gala-bhṛto valkalinyaś ca śākhāḥ |
  vīkṣyante yan mukhāni prasabham apagata-praśrayāṇāṃ khalānāṃ
  duḥkhāpta-svalpa-vitta-smaya-pavana-vaśānartita-bhrū-latāni || BharSt_3.25 ||
        
  "Another night, another day"—
    So thinks the foolish man,
  Runs to the same old job again
    As briskly as he can.

  Frustrations that reiterate
    How life is e'er the same,
  Still leave him keen for stale delights.
    Mad, mad! Is there no shame?
  rātriḥ saiva punaḥ sa eva divaso matvā mudhā jantavo
  dhāvanty udyaminas tathaiva nibhṛta-prārabdha-tat-tat-kriyāḥ |
  vyāpāraiḥ punar-ukta-bhūta-viṣayair itthaṃ vidhenāmunā
  saṃsāreṇa kadarthitā vayam aho mohān na lajjāmahe || BharSt_3.44 ||
        
  JOY SUPREME

  Forget society and clothes and food;
    Seek thou that knowledge sure
  Which makes imperial power that men think good,
    Insipid and impure.
  There is a higher joy, eternal, free—
    Self-knowledge is its name—
  Whose taste makes universal sovereignty
    And such-like joys seem tame.
  trailokyādhipatitvam eva virasaṃ yasmin mahāśāsane
  tal labdhvāsana-vastra-māna-ghaṭane bhoge ratiṃ mā kṛthāḥ |
  bhogaḥ ko 'pi sa eka eva paramo nityoditā jṛmbhane
  yat-svādād virasā bhavanti visayās trailokya-rājyādayaḥ || BharSt_3.99*1 ||
        

From the Mahabharata

  HOW TO LIVE HAPPILY ON NOTHING A YEAR

  Imagine that what is
    Does not exist at all;
  Then will you not be grieved,
    However low you fall.

  Your deeds of yesterday
    And those mat went before
  Are past and gone; for them
    You need not sorrow more.

  What was, no longer is;
    What was not, will not be:
  The past need bring regret
    To none from blindness free.

  Where is your father now?
    Where may his father be?
  You do not see their life;
    Your life they do not see.

  And you, O King, and I,
    With every foe and friend,
  Will surely cease to be,
    Since all things have an end.

  The men of twenty years,
    Or thirty years, or more,
  Will all be dead when once
    A hundred years are o'er.

  And even should riches cling
    To you, do not repine,
  But seek for comfort in
    The thought, "They are not mine."

  If man leave not his wealth,
    Then wealth the man will leave,
  Since this is surely so,
    Why should the prudent grieve?

  And poor men live today
    Who calm a nation's fears
  By wisdom and by strength,
    Your betters or your peers.

  They do not grieve like you;
    Then cease to grieve at length;
  Surpass or equal them
    In wisdom and in strength.

  Consider what the past
    And what the future teach,
  Not grieving at events,
    Indifferent to each.

  Desire the things you may,
    Not those you may not gain
  Enjoy the gifts of fate—
    Those lost deserve no pain.

  And he is surely fool
    Who curses God and weeps
  For what he had, and lost—
    Ingrate for what he keeps.

  And be not troubled if
    Men show unworthiness
  Of wealth they have; for thus
    Your sorrows grow no less.

  Endure though riches smile
    On all but you alone;
  For men of sense enjoy
    The wealth that others own.

  Yea, brave and righteous men
    In willing sacrifice
  Abandon wealth and home,
    Knowing salvation's price.

  Even kings a kingdom leave
    And count their loss a gain:
  In pain's extremity
    They seek the end of pain.

  From such men learn to find
    In penury, relief:
  Grief often comes as joy;
    Joy wears the form of grief.

  Nay,   who would set his heart
    On gold that ends as dross,
  On life that ends as death,
    On love that ends as loss?

  The pole-tusked elephant
    Is like the sage; for he
  Lives lonely in the woods,
    Gladly, and frugally
                              xii.104
  []
  THE LAZY CAMEL

  There was a camel once who prayed
  To Brahma fervently. He said:
  "O Brahma, if your lordship please,
  I wish to browse with greater ease.

  "I pray you make my neck to grow
  Longer, a hundred miles or so."
  "So be it," said the god. And he
  Regained his forest, filled with glee.

  From stupid pride at Brahma's grace
  He sank in laziness apace.
  He would not stir a foot to find
  His provender. Fate made him blind.

  One day he stretched his neck to eat
  A hundred miles from legs and feet,
  And browsed in comfort and repose
  Until a mighty windstorm rose.

  While freezing rain began to fall
  On living things, and drenched them all,
  The creature stored his neck and head
  Upon a cavern's sheltered bed.

  Just then a jackal with his wife
  Entered the cave to save his life
  From chilling cold and pelting rain,
  Starvation, and exhausting pain.

  Starving, fatigued, and furthermore
  By nature's law a carnivore,
  The jackal started in to eat
  The camel's neck, as being meat.

  But when the wretched creature knew
  His neck was being eaten through,
  He frantically used his strength
  To shrink the neck to lesser length.

  Yet while he tossed the neck about,
  Upward and downward, in and out,
  The starving jackal calmly ate—
  The wife was not behind her mate.

  At last the jackal and his wife
  By eating took the camel's life,
  And when the wind and rain were gone,
  They left the cave and wandered on.

  The camel died in consequence
  Of foolish pride and indolence.
  Behold how evil follows hard
  On laziness, as its reward.
                              xii.112
  []
  THE WAY OF PEACE

  In shifting joy and grief
    Should I rejoice, repine,
  I should despise the soul
    That I must still call mine.

  Because this life, this world
    Are other men's no less
  Than they are mine, I win
    An end to all distress.

  As log meets log upon
    The sea, and parts again,
  So kinsman, friend, and son
    Love and abandon men.

  Grief starts and ends as joy;
    Joy starts and ends as grief
  The wheel, while whirling, finds
    Antipodal relief.

  With countless bonds of love
    Men cling to objects, and
  Assailed by failure's waves,
    Collapse like banks of sand.

  To him with foe, with friend,
    Him lacking friend, or foe,
  To wise or fool, comes joy,
    If fate will have it so.

  To hero, sage, and coward,
    To poet, dullard, fool,
  To weak and strong, comes joy
    By no discovered rule.

  To him who drinks her milk—
    Obtained no matter how—
  Calf, herdsman, king, or thief,
    A cow is still a cow.

  The dullest wights on earth
    Live joyfully; and so
  Do men supremely wise—
    The rest are sunk in woe.

  For brave men love extremes,
    Never the prudent mean;
  Extremes, they say, are joy;
    And grief, what lies between.

  The dunce sleeps joyfully,
    Setting his deeds aside,
  Wrapped in his foolishness
    As in a blanket wide.

  The man supremely wise,
    Past opposites, and all
  Mean envy, sees unmoved
    What good or ill befall,

  While men not wholly fools,
    Yet something less than wise,
  Are boisterous in success
    And writhe when fortune flies.

  The fool is always gay
    As angels are in heaven,
  Glad in his self-conceit,
   That gift by folly given.

  Joy ends in sloth—and grief;
    Grief ends in skill—and joy.
  And fortune dwells with skill,
    To sloth is ever coy.

  Then greet whatever comes
    Of joy or grievous smart,
  Delight or pain, with brave,
    Unconquerable heart.

  A thousand sorrows and
    A hundred fears assail
  The fool from day to day.
    The wise man does not quail.

  For sorrow cannot touch
    The truly modest soul,
  Long-suffering, peaceful, wise,
    Rooted in self-control.

  If your own limb should be
    The seat of sorrow, doubt,
  Wrath, or timidity,
    Cut roots, and cast it out.

  Desires, departing, leave
    A void. Joy fills it higher.
  But he who will pursue
    Must perish by desire.

  All heart's desires of earth
    And heaven's great bliss fulfilled
  Form one-sixteenth the joy
    That comes from passion stilled.

  This wisdom clasp. Faint not
    Upon the righteous path.
  Scorn all desires of sense,
    And put behind you wrath.

  For love is death that lives
    And feeds within the heart:
  And anger lives until
    The soul and body part.

  As turtles pull inside
    Their shells, pull free from sin:
  For glory, light, and peace
    Are only found within.

  Whatever deeds are done
    By one who thinks “'Tis mine,”
  Slope downward through remorse
    To death, in sure decline.

  When none has fear of you,
    And when you find release
  From fear and hate and hope,
    You have eternal peace.

  Leave true and false behind;
    Sorrow and glee control,
  Pain. pleasure, safety, fear—
    Find rest unto your soul.

  Be brave! Let sinful word
    And thought and action cease
  Toward every living thing—
    So find eternal peace.

  Passion-the fatal taint,
    The fool's enticing toy,
  Still young in aged hearts—
    Abandon. This is joy.
                        xii.173
  []
  THE JACKAL'S PRAYER

  Oh, thrice and four times blest are they
    Who have a pair of hands!
  I lift a fruitless prayer to heaven
    In envious demands.

  I cannot pull a sliver out
    Because I have no hands,
  Nor nab the lowly parasite
    Where sting or nipper lands.

  While those to whom a kindly god
    Gave two five-fingered hands
  Can catch a bug on any limb
    And smash him where he stands.

  They get them beds and dress and food
    And shelter with their hands;
  They build a house no frost or heat
    Or wind or rain disbands.

  And they bestride the lesser world
    With all-contriving hands:
  They make the bullock pull the cart
    In fear of reprimands.

  Yes,all the rest of us on earth
    Must follow their commands;
  For we are poor but honest folk,
    And weak. We have no hands.

  Thank God you are not classified
    By bug or jackal brands,
  Or mouse, or snake, or frog, or such.
  Thank Heaven, man, for hands!
                          xii. 178. 11–18
  []
  WISDOM OF BALI

  I notice Time destroying all
    The creatures in his path;
  If 'twere not so, I should indulge
    In joy and pride and wrath,

  You see me living as an ass
    In lonely stall forlorn,
  Devouring husks. And seeing this,
    You chuckle, filled with scorn.

  And if I would, I could assume
    Some form so terrifying
  That you, beholding it, would soon
    Be seen in terror flying.

  If heaven's king in armor stood
    Here in a gleaming mist,
  I could, if Time commanded, smite
    Him low with naked fist,

  But this is not a time for fight;
    This is a time for peace:
  Time causes every action; Time
    Bids every action cease.

  I understand the ancient laws
    By which events unroll—
  You too may understand. But first
    Make friends with your own soul.
                             xii. 231
  []
  MEDHAVIN'S WISDOM

  He plucks a blossom here and there,
  His thoughts directed otherwhere;
  Before he sees desire or plan
  Complete, Death comes upon a man.

  Tomorrow's duty do today;
  Let not the evening's task delay
  Till evening hours. Death will not stay
  To ask if it be done or nay.

  Work out salvation. Do not wait;
  Lest Death your thought anticipate.
  Who knows the hour? or who can say
  Whose fatal moment comes today?

  Regardless of his settled plan,
  Death seizes on the helpless man.
  Then let your youth be given all
  To virtue. Life is whimsical.
                              xii. 283
  []
  THE YOGA PATH

  For as a steersman guides a ship,
    Holding the tiller down,
  Who, leaving stormy seas behind,
    Sails to a lordly town,

  Just so the wise and earnest man
    May guide his soul, and find
  A far, high place of perfect peace,
    The body left behind.

  Or as a careful driver yokes
    Good horses to his car
  And quickly drives an archer to
    The spot desired, though far;

  As arrows hit the target, when
    The bowstring gives release.
  Just so the saint, with centered thought,
    Soon reaches perfect peace.

  Yes,but the learned Brahman knows
    How hard that path may be,
  And no man, so the wise declare,
    Can tread it easily.

  For just as in a lonely wood
    That creeps and crawls with snakes,
  Where pitfalls yawn and water fails,
    Tangled, with thorny brakes,

  A wild and foodless wood whose trunks
    Are gnawed by forest fire,
  A youth may seek, where robbers hide,
    The path of his desire,

  So may a Brahman find and tread
    The Yoga path. Yet he
  May quickly lose his footing there,
    Sa many snares there be.

  To stand on whetted razor-blades
    Is easy. Not a soul
  May stand upon the Yoga path
    Who lacks in self-control.
                             xii. 306
  []
  VERSES

  The dullest people in the world
    Live happily; and so
  Do they whose wisdom is supreme:
    The rest are sunk in woe.
                    xii.25.28; also xii.173.34
  []
  But for their patience, self-control,
    But for their common sense,
  And but for scorn of wealth, the wise
    Have no pre-eminence.
                    xii.81.26
  []
  There is no grief in others' grief—
    So fools proclaim aloud:
  For they who never suffered much,
    Love babbling in the crowd.

  He cannot speak who feels the stab
    That brings the stifled groan,
  Who knows the taste of perfect grief,
    His neighbor's as his own.
                      xii. 139.65,66
  []
  Rate not too high your righteousness,
  And preach to other men still less:
  Great cattle drink the water cool,
  Though frogs are croaking in the pool.
                            xii. 141. 82
  []
  An evil word, though men may shout
  It loud, grows dim and flickers out.
  A worthy word, though whispered low,
  Pervades the world with steady glow.
                            xii. 293.32
  []
  Speak not, unless you questioned be,
  Nor speak, if questioned wrongfully:
  The truly wise are able to
  Sit quiet, just as boobies do.
                           xii. 293.35
  []
  Fire, water, moonbeams, good, and ill—
  We know them by the way they feel.
                           xii. 293.39
  []
  Alone each creature sees the light;
  Alone grows into youthful might;
  His pains and pleasures are his own;
  He journeys toward his death—alone.
                           xii. 294.16
  []
  A calf can find its mother cow
    Among a thousand kine:
  So good or evil done returns
    And whispers: "I am thine."
  yathā dhenusahasreṣu vatso vindati mātaram /
  tathā pūrvakṛtaṃ karma kartāraṃ anugacchati

From the Hitopadesha

  THE ONE TREASURE

  Many the treasures for which men sigh;
    One only is peerless forever:
  Thieves cannot plunder, gold cannot buy
    The wisdom that perisheth never.
  [Hitopadesha]