The Kural

with my memory full of him, my heart burneth within me: what then will be my case if I forget him?

How often soever I recall my beloved to my mind he will not be wroth with me: so much is the favour that my beloved bestoweth upon me!

When my heart thinketh on his cruelty who once said, We are not two but only one life and soul, verily my life ebbeth away.

O Moon! set not in the horizon, I pray thee, till my eyes look again upon him who, abiding still within my heart, hath yet parted from me.

CXXII

In Praise of the Dream-State

She

1211. What honours shall I do to the Dream which hath brought me a message from the beloved?

1212. If only I could persuade my eyes to sleep, I would fly to my beloved in my dream, and tell him the story of how I manage yet to hold on to life.

1213. If I am able to support life yet it is only because I see him in dreams who showeth not his face in waking hours.

1214. Dream giveth me all the joys of love: for it bringeth back to me my beloved who refuseth to pity me in my waking state.

1215. The joys of the dream last as long as the beloved appeareth in it: and what more can be said of the waking state?

1216. Oh that there were no waking state! For then my dream would never be cut short and my beloved would never depart from me.

1217. The cruel one who pitieth me not while I am awake, why doth he haunt me in my dreams?63

1218. He embraceth me while I am asleep64 and rusheth into my heart as soon as I open my eyes.

1219. They reproach my beloved for that he doth not meet me to their knowledge: but then they see him not in dreams.

1220. These village folk say that he hath parted from me: is it that they see him not in dreams?

CXXIII

Sighing at the Approach of Evening

She

1221. Evening! Bless thee, but who calleth thee Evening? Thou art really the hour that devoureth the lives of the wedded ones!

1222. Thou lookest melancholy and pale, O Eventide! Pray, tell me, dear, is thy lover also cruel even as mine?

1223. The dewy evening hour that once used to come trembling and sighing before me, now advanceth boldly, bringing nought but grief and despair unto my heart.

1224. When the beloved is away, evening approacheth even as the executioner advancing to the execution-ground.

1225. What is the kindness that I had done to the morning hour? and how have I injured eventide?65

1226. Alack the day! I never knew the sting of the evening so long as my beloved was by my side.

1227. This sickness buddeth in the morning, goeth on opening its petals the livelong day, and standeth full-blown at eventide.

1228. They call it the pipe of the shepherd, but verily it is a murderous weapon to me: for it ushereth in the evening that burneth me so.

1229. If evening that hath already driven me mad should advance any further, the whole town will be shrouded in sorrow before long, for I shall simply die.

1230. The life which is yet clinging on to me will soon depart: for eventide recalleth to me the image of him who is mad after wealth.

CXXIV

The Wasting Away of Her Lovely Form

She

1231. My eyes think on him who left me saying that it was but to increase my happiness that he went, and are ashamed to show their face before flowers.66

1232. My lacklustre eyes that are raining down tears look as if they would betray to others the unkindness of my beloved.

1233. The arms that swelled with joy on the nuptial day now look as if they would proclaim his parting to all the world.

1234. The arms that lost their wonted comeliness at the parting of the beloved, are now grown so thin that their very bracelets slip off from them of themselves.

1235. The arms which have lost their wonted comeliness together with the bracelets that they were wearing, proclaim loudly to the world the cruelty of that cruel one.

1236. I chide my arms for growing lean and allowing the bracelets to fall off, as people now reproach him with cruelty.

1237. Wouldst thou obtain glory, O my Heart? Then run to the cruel one and tell him of the bruit that hath arisen here from the wasting away of my arm.

He

1238. As we were embracing each other one day, I but relaxed my arms a little, and the forehead of that artless one grew pale at once!

1239. But a single breath of wind cut its way between us during our embrace, and the blood fled at once from her large eyes that are full even as the rain-cloud.

1240. Did the eyes grow pale only? They wept also at seeing the pallor of the fair forehead above.

CXXV

Addressing One’s Own Heart

She

1241. Wouldst thou not think, O my Heart, and find out and tell me some remedy to cure me of this incurable disease?

1242. Bless thee, my Heart! Thou art a fool to grieve at his absence when he hath no love for thee.

1243. What availeth our sitting here and pining away for thinking of him, O my Heart? He that caused us this grief remembereth us not.

1244. If thou go to him, my Heart, take these eyes also along with thee! For they devour me in their longing to look on him.

1245. Though he spurneth us in spite of our cleaving unto him, can we give him up as an enemy, my Heart?

1246. When thou lookest on the beloved who is clever in the art of conciliating, my Heart, thou wouldst not even take huff but wouldst rush to his embrace, forgetting all: I fear that now too thy anger is only feigned.

1247. O my Heart! Either give up love or give up bashfulness: for, I am unable to support both of them at the same time.

1248. Thou sighest that he would not return for pity