Chapter Eight: Literature of the Rasika Tradition in Hindi

My two eyes are coloured by the Couple’s beauty.
Dark and fair meet in an incomparable vision like a cloud joined with lightning.
The two shine with arms about one another’s necks, captivating every heart.
Crown and moon ornament, jewel at the nose, swaying nose-ring, earrings, and flowers at the ears adorn them.
Their loveliness from toenails to crown cannot be expressed; even a bard can form no adequate praise.

Without seeing them, my eyes refuse to be satisfied.
From the moment my two eyes beheld those sweet forms, they have remained intoxicated by the nectar of beauty.
Drinking honey from the lotus faces, the bee-minds of devotees grow drunk.
As moon and cakora gaze upon one another, the eyes drink the nectar of their forms.
Ah, wise Rampriya—without you, who can understand the silent heart?

I sacrifice myself to Sri Priya Ji’s eyes.
Filled with feeling and rasa, they are the captivating, joy-bestowing wanderers of Ayodhya.
Their quick and clever glance steals consciousness; even the way they turn and lower themselves is dear.
Beautiful without collyrium, they resemble a delightful monsoon forest.
Forever steeped in love for the wise beloved, they are ever-new connoisseurs at play.
Hemlata sacrifices every comparison and remains gazing without blinking.

May these two moons dwell within my heart:
Dasharatha’s son and Sri Janaka’s daughter, their crimson lotus hands moving among lotuses.
They sit upon a golden throne, surrounded by groups of young women.
Lovely arms rest upon one another’s shoulders, and curling hair bends close to their cheeks.
Chandravati waves the fly-whisk above their heads, while Chandrakala laughs and gazes upon their bodies.
Ramsakhe cannot express their beauty as they bend toward one another, betel reddening their mouths.

His dark limbs shine in colourful garments; accompanied by his brothers, he moves with a spirited horse’s dancing gait.
Bracelets grace his hands, a jewelled garland his breast, a lovely mark his brow, and the wedding crown rests firmly upon his head.
His sandal-bright face smiles gently, filled with bliss; lotus eyes cast a net that catches the mind.
Whoever once beholds this graceful vision remains fixed upon it—such is the splendid sight of bridegroom Rama.

His complexion is a raincloud and his garments lightning; bow and arrows in his hands proclaim the hero’s valour.
Many ornaments and an immense forest garland beautify his form, like the Earth’s daughter dwelling within the atmosphere.
His face is the moon and his excellent eyes lotuses; his expansive smile splits every obstruction.
Amid the groves within the kingdom of his limbs appears the stainless and graceful vision of Rama, hero of the universe.