Chapter Eight: Literature of the Rasika Tradition in Hindi

The royal prince has settled between my two eyes.
My heart will not listen; both eyes remain thirsty without his vision. What am I to do, O son of Dasharatha?
The darling of Raghu’s line alone is my beloved.
Curling, glossy black locks surround his red-tinged eyes; ten million Cupids surrender to the dear one.
That tender youth is the support of Lauthan’s life and the foundation of the saints’ very breath.

Lord, I watch the road for you; only one hope remains to me now.
In Sawan dark clouds spread across the sky, yet my beloved sends no news of his condition.
The papīhā cries “Beloved, beloved”; friend, people swing upon swings
And sing songs saturated with the nectar of love, but hearing them gives separation another violent shock.
Raghupati Hari, remove every calamity of mine.
During Bhadon’s dark nights, cloudbanks thunder and exceedingly heavy rain pours down.
No one hears this anguish of mine—turn your compassionate gaze toward me.
Kuvar has arrived and the autumn season has come; travellers set out upon the now-beautiful roads.
When will my beloved return and clasp me to his neck? Lauthan asks with folded hands.

How can I live in your city, dark beloved?
I formed this love hoping to attain happiness, yet both sides have become wilderness.
Lord, do not be so cruel as to make a humble woman forget your form.
To which shore am I to cling?

Crooked karma has turned against me, and no remedy succeeds.
If you wish, everything can be set right in an instant and every difficulty erased.
If my fortune has failed, remember that I am the servant and you the master—hear me, King of Kosala.
You must now preserve the honour of the arm you once took in your hand.
Every concern of mine belongs to you, dark beloved.

Ayodhya is the city, the Sarayu the river, and the saints hold court there.
Sita and Rama dwell there eternally, protectors of Lauthan.
Dark beloved, let me dwell upon the road to Ayodhya.