Works of Sri Aurobindo

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-05_Selected Pomes of Chandidas.htm

Selected Poems

of

CHANDIDAS


I

LOVE, but my words are vain as air!

In my sweet joyous youth, a heart untried,

Thou took’st me in Love’s sudden snare,

Thou wouldst not let me in my home abide.

 

And now I have nought else to try,

But I will make my soul one strong desire

And into Ocean leaping die:

So shall my heart be cooled of all its fire.

 

Die and be born to life again

As Nanda’s son, the joy of Braja’s girls,

And I will make thee Radha then,

A laughing child’s face set with lovely curls.

 

Then I will love thee and then leave;

Under the codome’s boughs when thou goest by

Bound to the water morn or eve,

Lean on that tree fluting melodiously.

 

Thou shalt hear me and fall at sight

Under my charm; my voice shall wholly move

Thy simple girl’s heart to delight;

Then shalt thou know the bitterness of love.

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II

O LOVE, what more shall I, shall Radha speak,

Since mortal words are weak?

In life, in death,

In being and in breath

No other lord but thee can Radha seek.

About thy feet the mighty net is wound

Wherein my soul they bound;

Myself resigned

To servitude my mind;

My heart than thine no sweeter slavery found.

 

I, Radha, thought; through the three worlds my gaze

I sent in wild amaze;

I was alone.

None called me "Radha!", none;

I saw no hand to clasp, no friendly face.

 

I sought my father’s house; my father’s sight

Was empty of delight;

No tender friend

Her loving voice would lend;

My cry came back unanswered from the night.

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Therefore to this sweet sanctuary I brought

My chilled and shuddering thought.

Ah, suffer, sweet,

To thy most faultless feet

That I should cling unchid; ah, spurn me not!

 

Spurn me not, dear, from thy beloved breast.

A woman weak, unblest.

Thus let me cling,

Thus, thus about my king

And thus remain caressing and caressed.

 

I, Radha, thought; without my life’s sweet lord,

—Strike now thy mightiest chord—

I had no power

To live one simple hour;

His absence slew my soul as with a sword.

 

If one brief moment steal thee from mine eyes,

My heart within me dies.

As girls who keep

The treasures of the deep,

I string thee round my neck and on my bosom prize.

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III

O HEART, my heart, a heavy pain is thine!

What land is that where none doth know

Love’s cruel name nor any word of sin?

My heart, there let us go.

 

Friend of my soul, who then has called love sweet?

Laughing I called from heavenly spheres

The sweet love close; he came with flying feet

And turned my life to tears.

 

What highborn girl, exiling virgin pride,

Has wooed love to her with a laugh?

His fires shall burn her as in harvest-tide

The mowers burn the chaff.

 

O heart, my heart, merry thy sweet youth ran

In fields where no love was; thy breath

Is anguish, since his cruel reign began.

What other cure but death?

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