Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE INDIAN SONG OF SONGS (GITA GOVINDA): SARGA THE SIXTH, by JAYADEVA


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THE INDIAN SONG OF SONGS (GITA GOVINDA): SARGA THE SIXTH, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: But seeing that, for all her loving will
Last Line: (here ends that sarga of the gîta govinda entitled dhrishtavaikunto.)
Subject(s): Beauty; Soul


DHRISHTAVAIKUNTO.

KRISHNA MADE BOLDER.

But seeing that, for all her loving will,
The flower-soft feet of Radha had not power
To leave their place and go, she sped again—
That maiden—and to Krishna's eager ears
Told how it fared with his sweet mistress there.

(What follows is to the Music GONDAKIRÎ and the Mode RUPAKA.)

Krishna, 'tis thou must come (she sang),
Ever she waits thee in heavenly bower;
The lotus seeks not the wandering bee,
The bee must find the flower.

All the wood over her deep eyes roam,
Marveling sore where tarries the bee,
Who leaves such lips of nectar unsought
As those that blossom for thee.

Her steps would fail if she tried to come,
Would falter and fail, with yearning weak;
At the first of the road they would falter and pause,
And the way is strange to seek.

Find her where she is sitting, then,
With lotus-blossom on ankle and arm
Wearing thine emblems, and musing of nought
But the meeting to be—glad, warm.

To be—"but wherefore tarrieth he?"
"What can stay or delay him?—go!
See if the soul of Krishna comes,"
Ten times she sayeth to me so;

Ten times lost in a languorous swoon,
"Now he cometh—he cometh," she cries;
And a love look lightens her eyes in the gloom,
And the darkness is sweet with her sighs.

Till, watching in vain, she glideth again
Under the shade of the whispering leaves;
With a heart too full of its love at last
To heed how her bosom heaves.

Shall not these fair verses swell
The number of the wise who dwell
In the realm of Kama's bliss?
Jayadeva prayeth this,
Jayadev, the bard of Love,
Servant of the Gods above.

For all so strong in Heaven itself
Is Love, that Radha sits drooping there,
Her beautiful bosoms panting with thought,
And the braids drawn back from her ear.

And—angel albeit—her rich lips breathe
Sighs, if sighs were ever so sweet;
And—if spirits can tremble—she trembles now
From forehead to jeweled feet.

And her voice of music sinks to a sob,
And her eyes, like eyes of a mated roe,
Are tender with looks of yielded love,
With dreams dreamed long ago;

Long, long ago, but soon to grow truth,
To end, and be waking and certain and true;
Of which dear surety murmur her lips,
As the lips of sleepers do:

And, dreaming, she loosens her girdle-pearls,
And opens her arms to the empty air,
Then starts, if a leaf of the champâk falls,
Sighing, "Oh, leaf! is he there?"

Why dost thou linger in this dull spot,
Haunted by serpents and evil for thee?
Why not hasten to Nanda's House?
It is plain, if thine eyes could see.

May these words of high endeavor—
Full of grace and gentle favor—
Find out those whose hearts can feel
What the message did reveal,
Words that Radha's messenger
Unto Krishna took from her,
Slowly guiding him to come
Through the forest to his home,
Guiding him to find the road
Which led—though long—to Love's abode.

(Here ends that Sarga of the Gîta Govinda entitled DHRISHTAVAIKUNTO.)





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