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Selected Poems of Horo Thacoor
1
(The soul beset by God wishes to surrender itself.) Who is this with smeared limbs Of sandal wreathed with forest blossom? For a beauty in him gleams Earth bears not on her mortal bosom.
He his hair with bloom has crowned, And many bees come murmuring, swarming. Who is he that with sweet sound Arrests our feet, our hearts alarming?
Daily came I to the river, Daily passed these boughs of blessing, But beneath their shadow never Saw such beauty heart-caressing.
Like a cloud yet moist with rain His hue is, robe of masquerader. Ah, a girl’s soul out to win Outposts here what amorous raider?
Ankle over ankle lays And moonbeams from his feet make glamour; When he moves, at every pace His body’s sweets Love’s self enamour.
Page – 444 A strange wish usurps my mind; My youth, my beauty, ah, life even At his feet if I resigned Were not that rich surrender heaven?
Page – 445 2
(The soul catching a reflection of God’s face in the river of the world, is enchanted with its beauty.)
Lolita, say What is this strange, sweet thing I watch today, Fixed lightning in the water’s quiet dreaming?
Lolita, none Disturb a single wave here, even one! Great is her sin who blots the vision gleaming.
Lolita, see What glimmers in the wave so wondrously? Of Crishna’s limbs it has each passionate motion.
Lolita, then To lure my soul comes that dark rose of men In a shadow’s form, and witch with strange emotion?
Lolita, daily To bring sweet water home we troop here gaily, But never yet saw in the waves such beauty.
Lolita, tell me Why do so many strange sweet thoughts assail me, As moon-bloom petals to the moon pay duty?
Lolita, may This be the moon eclipsed that fain would stay In the clear water being from heaven effaced?
Lolita, no The moon is to the lotus bright a foe; But this! my heart leaps forward to embrace it.
Page – 446 3
(The same)
Look, Lolita, the stream one loves so And water brings each day! But what is this strange light that moves so, In Jamouna today?
What is it shining, heaving, glimmering, Is it a flower or face Thus shimmering with the water’s shimmering And swaying as it sways?
Is it a lotus darkly blooming In Jamouna’s clear stream? What else the depths opaque illuming Could with such beauty claim?
Is it his shadow whom dark-burning In sudden bloom we see When with our brimming jars returning We pass the tamal-tree?
Is there in upper heavens or under A moon that’s dark of hue? By daylight does that moon of wonder Its mystic dawn renew?
Page – 447 4
(The soul recognizes the Eternal for whom it has failed in its earthly conventional duties and incurred the censure of the world.)
I know him by the eyes all hearts that ravish, For who is there beside him? O honey grace of amorous sweetness lavish!
I know him by his dark compelling beauty; Once only having spied him For him I stained my honour, scorned my duty.
I know him by his feet of moonbeam brightness; Because for their sake purely I live and move, my name is taxed with lightness.
Ah now I know him surely.
Page – 448 5
(The soul finds that the Eternal is attracted to other than itself and grows jealous.)
O fondly hast thou loved, thyself deceiving, But he thou lovest truth nor kindness keeps; His tryst thou servest, disappointed, grieving, — He on another’s lovelier bosom sleeps.
With Chundra’s sweets he honeys out the hours. If thou believe not, come and thou wilt find him In night’s pale close upon a bed of flowers, Thy Shyama with those alien arms to bind him.
For I have seen her languid swooning charms And I have seen his burning lovely youth, Bound breast to breast with close entwining arms And mouth upon inseparable mouth.
Page – 449 6
(The Eternal departing from the soul to his kingdom of action and its duties, the latter bemoans its loneliness.)
What are these wheels whose sudden thunder Alarms the ear with ominous noise? Who brought this chariot to tread under Gocool, our Paradise? Watching the wheels our hearts are rent asunder.
Alas! and why is Crishna standing With Ocroor in the moving car? To Mothura is he then wending, To Mothura afar, The anguish in our eyes not understanding?
What fault, what fault in Radha finding Hast thou forsaken her who loved thee, Her tears upon thy feet not minding? Once surely they had moved thee! O Radha’s lord, what fault in Radha finding?
But Shyama, dost thou recollect not, That we have left all for thy sake? Of other thought, of other love we recked not, Labouring thy love to wake. Thy love’s the only thought our minds reject not.
Hast thou forgot how we came running At midnight when the moon was full, Called by thy flute’s enamoured crooning, Musician beautiful, Shame and reproach for thy sake never shunning?
Page – 450 To please thee was our sole endeavour, To love thee was our sole delight; This was our sin; for this, O lover, Dost thou desert us quite? Is it therefore thou forsakest us for ever?
Ah why should I forbid thee so? To Mothura let the wheels move thee, To Mothura if thy heart go, For the sad souls that love thee, That thou art happy is enough to know.
But O with laughing face half-willing, With eyes that half a glance bestow Once only our sad eyes beguiling Look backward ere thou go, On Braja’s neatherdess once only smiling.
One last look all our life through burning, One last look of our dear delight And then to watch the great wheels turning Until they pass from sight, Hopeless to see those well-loved feet returning.
All riches that we had, alone Thou wast, therefore forlorn we languish; From empty breasts we make our moan. Our souls with the last anguish Smiting in careless beauty thou art gone!
Page – 451 7
(The soul longs for reunion with God, without whom the sweetnesses of love and life are vain.)
All day and night in lonely anguish wasting The heart's wish to the lips unceasing comes, — “O that I had a bird’s wings to go hasting Where that dark wanderer roams! I should behold the flute on loved lips resting.”
Where shall I find him, joy in his sweet kisses? How shall I hope my love’s feet to embrace? O void is home and vain affection’s bliss is Without the one loved face. Crishna who has nor home nor kindred misses.
Page – 452 |
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