You told me tales of your vivid life Where death was cruel and danger rife-- Of deep dark forests, of poisoned trees, Of pains and passions that scorch and freeze, Of southern noontides and eastern nights, Where love grew frantic with strange delights, While men were slaying and maidens danced, Till I, who listened, lay still, entranced. Then, swift as a swallow heading south, I kissed your mouth!
One night when the plains were bathed in blood From sunset light in a crimson flood, We wandered under the young teak trees Whose branches whined in the light night breeze; You led me down to the water's brink, "The Spring where the Panthers come to drink At night; there is always water here Be the season never so parched and sere." Have we souls of beasts in the forms of men? I fain would have tasted your life-blood then.
The night fell swiftly; this sudden land Can never lend us a twilight strand 'Twixt the daylight shore and the ocean night, But takes--as it gives--at once, the light. We laid us down on the steep hillside, While far below us wild peacocks cried, And we sometimes heard, in the sunburnt grass, The stealthy steps of the Jungle pass. We listened; knew not whether they went On love or hunger the more intent. And under your kisses I hardly knew Whether I loved or hated you.
But your words were flame and your kisses fire, And who shall resist a strong desire? Not I, whose life is a broken boat On a sea of passions, adrift, afloat. And, whether I came in love or hate, That I came to you was written by Fate In every hue of the blood-red sky, In every tone of the peacocks' cry.
While every gust of the Jungle night Was fanning the flame you had set alight. For these things have power to stir the blood And compel us all to their own chance mood. And to love or not we are no more free Than a ripple to rise and leave the sea.
We are ever and always slaves of these, Of the suns that scorch and the winds that freeze, Of the faint sweet scents of the sultry air, Of the half heard howl from the far off lair. These chance things master us ever. Compel To the heights of Heaven, the depths of Hell.
Whether I love you? You do not ask, Nor waste yourself on the thankless task. I give your kisses at least return, What matter whether they freeze or burn. I feel the strength of your fervent arms, What matter whether it heals or harms.
You are wise; you take what the Gods have sent. You ask no question, but rest content So I am with you to take your kiss, And perhaps I value you more for this. For this is Wisdom; to love, to live, To take what Fate, or the Gods, may give, To ask no question, to make no prayer, To kiss the lips and caress the hair, Speed passion's ebb as you greet its flow,-- To have,--to hold,--and,--in time,--let go!
And this is our Wisdom: we rest together On the great lone hills in the storm-filled weather, And watch the skies as they pale and burn, The golden stars in their orbits turn, While Love is with us, and Time and Peace, And life has nothing to give but these. But, whether you love me, who shall say, Or whether you, drifting down my way In the great sad River of Chance and Change, With your looks so weary and words so strange, Lit my soul from some hidden flame To a passionate longing without a name, Who shall say? Not I, who am but a broken boat, Content for a while to drift afloat In the little noontide of love's delights Between two Nights.
Valgovind's Boat Song
Waters glisten and sunbeams quiver, The wind blows fresh and free. Take my boat to your breast, O River! Carry me out to Sea!
This land is laden with fruit and grain, With never a place left free for flowers, A fruitful mother; but I am fain For brides in their early bridal hours.
Take my boat to your breast, O River! Carry me out to Sea!
The Sea, beloved by a thousand ships, Is maiden ever, and fresh and free. Ah, for the touch of her cool green lips, Carry me out to Sea!
Take my boat to your breast, dear River, And carry it out to Sea!
Kashmiri Song by Juma
You never loved me, and yet to save me, One unforgetable night you gave me Such chill embraces as the snow-covered heights Receive from clouds, in northern, Auroral nights. Such keen communion as the frozen mere Has with immaculate moonlight, cold and clear. And all desire, Like failing fire, Died slowly, faded surely, and sank to rest Against the delicate chillness of your breast.
Zira: in Captivity
Love me a little, Lord, or let me go, I am so weary walking to and fro Through all your lonely halls that were so sweet Did they but echo to your coming feet.
When by the flowered scrolls of lace-like stone Our women's windows--I am left alone, Across the yellow Desert, looking forth, I see the purple hills towards the north.
Behind those jagged Mountains' lilac crest Once lay the captive bird's small rifled nest. There was my brother slain, my sister bound; His blood, her tears, drunk by the thirsty ground.
Then, while the burning village smoked on high, And desecrated all the peaceful sky, They took us captive, us, born frank and free, On fleet, strong camels through the sandy sea.
Yet, when we rested, night-times, on the sand By the rare waters of this dreary land, Our captors, ere the camp was wrapped in sleep, Talked, and I listened, and forgot to weep.
"Is he not brave and fair?" they asked, "our King, Slender as one tall palm-tree by a spring; Erect, serene, with gravely brilliant eyes, As deeply dark as are these desert skies.
"Truly no bitter fate," they said, and smiled, "Awaits the beauty of this captured child!" Then something in my heart began to sing, And secretly I longed to see the King.
Sometimes the other maidens sat in tears, Sometimes, consoled, they jested at their fears, Musing what lovers Time to them would bring; But I was silent, thinking of the King.
Till, when the weary endless sands were passed, When, far to south, the city rose at last, All speech forsook me and my eyelids fell, Since I already loved my Lord so well.
Then the division: some were sent away To merchants in the city; some, they say, To summer palaces, beyond the walls. But me they took straight to the Sultan's halls.
Every morning I would wake and say "Ah, sisters, shall I see our Lord to-day?" The women robed me, perfumed me, and smiled; "When were his feet unfleet to pleasure, child?"
And tales they told me of his deeds in war, Of how his name was reverenced afar; And, crouching closer in the lamp's faint glow, They told me of his beauty, speaking low.
What need, what need? the women wasted art; I love you with every fibre of my heart Already. My God! when did I _not_ love you, In life, in death, when shall I not love you?
You never seek me. All day long I lie Watching the changes of the far-off sky Behind the lattice-work of carven stone. And all night long, alas! I lie alone.
But you come never. Ah, my Lord the King, How can you find it well to do this thing? Come once, come only: sometimes, as I lie, I doubt if I shall see you first, or die.
Ah, could I hear your footsteps at the door Hallow the lintel and caress the floor, Then I might drink your beauty, satisfied, Die of delight, ere you could reach my side.
Alas, you come not, Lord: life's flame burns low, Faint for a loveliness it may not know, Faint for your face, Oh, come--come soon to me-- Lest, though you should not, Death should, set me free!
Marriage Thoughts: by Morsellin Khan
_Bridegroom_ I give you my house and my lands, all golden with harvest; My sword, my shield, and my jewels, the spoils of my strife, My strength and my dreams, and aught I have gathered of glory, And to-night--to-night, I shall give you my very life.
_Bride_ I may not raise my eyes, O my Lord, towards you, And I may not speak: what matter? my voice would fail. But through my downcast lashes, feeling your beauty, I shiver and burn with pleasure beneath my veil.
_Younger Sisters_ We throw sweet perfume upon her head, And delicate flowers round her bed. Ah, would that it were our turn to wed!
_Mother_ I see my daughter, vaguely, through my tears, (Ah, lost caresses of my early years!) I see the bridegroom, King of men in truth! (Ah, my first lover, and my vanished youth!)
_Bride_ Almost I dread this night. My senses fail me. How shall I dare to clasp a thing so dear? Many have feared your name, but I your beauty. Lord of my life, be gentle to my fear!