That is real quality in a song which delights even a deer roaming about the forest.*
When the co-wives saw in the morning that the young woman’s ornaments were all in place, at first they were delighted; but when they discovered lac on their husband’s head, they sighed.
You “shy” one! There you are, blissfully asleep, your limbs weak from the night’s hectic love-making. Open the petals that cover your red lotus-eyes! A lovely morning to you!*
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Our mouths did not meet; I did not squeeze her breasts; our loins and thighs remained far apart; while uttering a hundred oaths, she embraced me merely with her arms.*
Lovely one, whom does your eye, which has a much admired pupil, can reach beyond the ear, and is suggestive, not infatuate? Just so, whom does the nature of the Buddha’s teaching, in which Tara is highly venerated, which can violate the Vedas, and which talks of “mental impurities,” not delude?*
Enough! Having recently become acquainted with the qualities of her lover, this girl is regretting that pointless fear and modesty cheated her of so much time, and is not chatting with the friends who share her bed.*
The body of that beautiful woman has become pale, lost half its weight, and is now possessed by the fierce pain of separation from you, pain that is the enemy of the three worlds and that resulted from her love for you, just as Uma of lovely body was reduced to half her size by Shiva the Enemy of Tri·pura, also called Ugra, who was filled with love for her and so absorbed her into his own body, so that only one half of her was left, because he suffered the pain of separation from her.*
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There are women who fall for a lover who’s inclined toward another—like people who put their trust in a river flowing backward—and if they think they will get going with him/it, my friend, their efforts will be for naught, and they’ll be reduced to laughing stocks.
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Dearer than all dear ones and always abiding in the heart, her soul in separation from you suffers in her throat, in the same way that during love-making you fling your arms round her neck.*
When the lover is invisible, that anguish is nothing compared with when he can be seen but is unobtainable; the sun-stone remains cool during the night, and only flares up during the day.*
Not to be displayed even to a friend, and causing happiness merely by being there, a lover, like wealth in a rulerless country, can be enjoyed only in secret and with deceit.*
[He:] “You heard about my offenses—look me in the eyes and tell me the truth!” [She:] “Would he not be called a ‘fraudster’ who has a face that robs one of one’s indig-nation?”*
Engaging again and again as they pursue each other down-stream, chasing from bank to bank, the young couple have not completed their Magha ritual bath, even though the sun has risen.*
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You creeper on the mango tree! Your body may be bending with the weight of fruit and your fragrance may be spreading everywhere; but since you are marked by the potsherd of an untouchable, despite your fruit you are fruitless.*
People have honored it with folded hands, and before it has faded away it has reddened ⋮ delighted the world. My male friend, although your stay here is but short, like that of the dawn it provides nothing but happiness.*
Without showing any concern for me, my friends ignored me and went away; sir, I am all alone. If now you do some violence to me, I shall abandon my body on account of you ⋮ I shall hand over my body to you.*
Unstable in your feelings, a trickster, arrogant, and fickle, you are a buffoon; when you fall into my girlfriend’s hands, I see how straight you become!
You merciless one! Apprehensive, she is weeping as her gaze without faltering runs after you who have turned your back, just as when Bhagi·ratha had turned his back Ganga followed him by becoming a river and coming down from the sky.*
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Although I am eagerly longing for you, you of lovely ⋮ golden complexion, you do not provide me with any satisfaction, because in anger you have blocked your emotions inside you, like the spout of a golden vessel that does not permit liquid to flow out due to some dirt inside.*
O you innocent girl! The exchange of fine fragrance ⋮ young love by a pine tree and the surface of the temple of an elephant overcome by rut makes their “rubbing” public knowledge.*
Her gaze, revealing itself by coming through the screen in which she had torn a hole with her fingers, tasted sweet as a stream of nectar purified through a sieve.*
When she was leaving for her husband’s home, her mother made the path muddy with her tears; but she was so confident of her excellence that her weeping expression, unable to produce tears, finally broke into a smile.
When will it be that I can put her on my lap and with nails moistened by her fragrant hair oil loosen her tiedup braid, while she, her eyes contracting, stutters: “How could you have been so cruel”?*
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You are more than desirable even without ornaments! You have no need for the jewelry of other women, which you turn into an object of ridicule, just as the vanas·pati creeper does the flowers of other, barren climbing plants.*
Even senseless and immobile objects have reached the highest heavens by some mysterious route—people call them “ministers”—like the pill of wisdom and power to act.*
In public our friend inflicts no harm ⋮ has little heat because she is cool in self-control ⋮ because of the coldness of her conduct; it is her husband who knows her fiery nature ⋮ tormenting heat, for he suffers ⋮ is burnt by her momen- tary perversity.*
By imagining them to be his wife, he achieves his satisfaction even with other women, as if he were looking upon temple statues made of stone as deities and gaining the objects prayed for.*
“Silly boy, if you don’t humble yourself a little you’ll never acquire her deep sweet love, any more than you could acquire the deep sweet water of a river without going down to it.”
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It ⋮ she needs no extra fragrance ⋮ perfume, no hole for the string ⋮ search for virtuous qualities, and no stringing together ⋮ tricks to ensnare, but by its own nature the ketaka bud ⋮ she forms a head-ornament for young people ⋮ makes the young men bow before her.
“The garland you made with your own hands, lucky man, removes all her pain, and now she wears it as a medication against the recurring fever of sleeping with her husband.”*
By not considering her fine qualities, you handsome man, and treating her with indifference, you left her with no recourse—as a ship is forced into its course by a whirl-pool that is stronger than the ropes and pays no attention to the oars.
Even though you go barebodied, wearing but a single garment, to your rendez-vous with an infatuated woman, you look finer than all other young men.*
I am like Rahu, one half alive, the other half dead: half of him is touched by nectar during an eclipse, half of me was embraced by my beloved when we met on the road.*
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