Chapter Eight: Literature of the Rasika Tradition in Hindi

When shall I behold the Lord of my life, overcome by mutual love,
Performing the supreme śṛṅgāra within the Lakshmana bower?

The two stand beautifully adorned, arms about one another’s necks.
I shall sacrifice ten million jewels to them, then offer body and mind as well.

When shall I behold that sweetness beside Janaka’s cherished daughter,
As she speaks with her lover and her heart swells with happiness and delight?

The bee-like companions discuss the splendours of amorous recreation.
Hearing them, the cherished young woman lowers her eyes and looks shyly upon her beloved’s face.

Will that day ever come when I remain beside Janaka’s daughter,
Close to her as a maidservant, inhaling the fragrance of her limbs?

When will my peacock-like eyes behold the sweetness of the toenails upon those lotus feet,
For whose moonlight sages have longed and become cakora birds?

In the moonlight of an autumn night the youthful Couple wander.
When shall I behold the Pair dance, surrounded on every side by the circle of companions?

When the cherished beloved enters māna, though helpless with love for you,
When shall I reconcile my sovereign Sita and introduce some colourful diversion?

With swaying gait and sidelong glance, her eyes gaze upon the beloved’s body.
When shall I hear the dear lover’s words with my own ears?

Then, abandoning māna, she surges toward her beloved’s breast.
If these eyes behold their meeting, this birth will bear fruit.

Countless drops of perspiration shine upon Rama’s face and his beloved’s body.
When shall I fan them with moving air and joyfully remove their weariness?

Proceeding once more to the sleeping bower, they delight the companions.
When shall I behold that lovely vision with the beloved Pair?

Beloved and lover meet and sport, trapped in the net of one another’s beauty.
Their bodies and minds are immersed in every limb, their gait intoxicated by love and rasa.

These are conversations concerning the arts of love; modesty and reserve cover their eyes.
When will my two eyes behold them, overcome by rasa in the work of rasa?

Intoxicated with rasa, they drink rasa; steeped in rasa, their minds become rasa.
Drunk with rasa in the play of rasa, their eyes are intoxicated by Love’s beauty.