I have searched the worlds and seen no other eyes like them— only the enchanting eyes of Kosala’s youthful prince. (35)
Stanza 36
Whomever Viharilala looks upon even once forgets laughter, play, dawn, and speech. She remembers neither veil nor bindu, neither necklace nor braid, neither ornaments, skirt, sari, nor bodice; neither herself nor home, neither love of husband and child, neither beauty-mark, tooth-black, vermilion, nor red cosmetic. “Friends, she is growing more and more unconscious,” says Nagaraj Lal, “struck by his eyes as though by the blow of a gunshot.” (36)
Stanza 37
Wearing a safflower-colored wrap, I went alone toward the royal grove; on the way I met the gallant of Ayodhya and froze in astonishment. The moment I drew near, rain began to fall; he smiled, understanding, and sheltered me beneath his yellow silk. Under that very canopy the clever one sheltered me; the raindrops ceased at that perfectly opportune moment. I swear by my brothers and by my father’s feet: the sweet ache of Raghava’s nature has never left me. (37)
As long as the speech of the Vedas and Brahma’s mouth remain enthroned; as long as the moon and its streaming radiance continue to shine above Shiva’s head; as long as the ocean, the mountains, and the earth endure, and Shesha remains steadfast, bearing their weight—