Erotic Love Poems from India
Page 3
catches the tears
for someplace else.
46
Night
turbulent overhead clouds
and a ripple of thunder.
The traveler
stung with tears
sings of a faraway girl.
Oh traveling
is a kind of death,
the village people hear it,
lower their heads
and quit their proud
tales of adventure.
47
We’d been drinking.
She noticed wounds on my skin
from her own
fingernails
and bolted up jealously.
Let go, she cried when I caught her skirt.
Tear-streaked face averted
lower lip quavering—
who could forget
what she said next?
48
O troubled heart!
At the door of the hut
full of hungry affection he dropped
at these feet.
And you denied him?
Now anger and vanity come into fruit.
Now love is a vagabond.
Grief will be your only
refuge
through life.
49
Through tears
she saw mist
and the clustering
rainclouds. If you leave…
her voice trailed and she clung
to my jacket,
scuffing the parched earth
where she dug in.
What she did next
no poet’s words command
the power to tell.
50
Dear girl—
My lord?
Stop being bitter and proud.
What does my bitterness do?
Troubles me.
You don’t mistreat me the
faults are mine.
Why tears and whimpering then?
Can anyone see me?
I can.
And am to you—?
My dearest.
That’s why the tears.
I am not.
51
That precious throat I was too
shy to caress—
when he kissed
why did I drop my face,
not look up, not even speak?
Thoughts of her childish demeanor
as a bride are weighed
with regret.
Her heart has flowered now.
She’s tasted the sweet
arts of the bedroom.
52
Unhappy women
have used tears, threatening oaths,
even collapse
to prevent a lover
from traveling.
Darling, I’m a pluckier girl.
Good luck and for your
early departure
I hope a propitious day.
After you’re gone you may hear
what I see fit to do with my
love life.
53
She did not clutch
his soft robe in a tendril-like hand,
block the door,
fall at his feet bitterly,
or cry stay!
As slow tenebrous clouds built in the
sky and her deceitful lover
was starting out
she cut off his path with
a violent
torrent of tears.
54
The love god has made
everything crooked.
Apart from you I get thinner and thinner.
It must be Yama the death god who
counts out our days.
How does a woman
survive without trust?
I tremble, darling,
a single green leaf on a twig.
NOTE: In Indian folklore, Yama serves as lord of the underworld. See the opening passage of Katha Upanishad for one of his early appearances.
55
Anger subsided.
She held a moonlit face in both hands.
I’d collapsed to the
earth in despair.
Suddenly across her breasts teardrops
broke from
thick lashes.
We were at peace.
56
I was still at a distance
and you rose
smiling
to greet with calm words
my requests.
In bed your eyes never softened though.
Your coldness unnerves me.
In that heart coils
something deceptive.
57
Friends I no longer trust.
I’m too shy
to toss a playful glance
at the one who fires
my passion.
People are quick to mock—
the slightest
indiscretion gets noted.
Oh mother, where can I hide?
The flames
of desire ungratified
wither the heart.
58
Hear his name
and every hair on my
body’s aroused.
See his moonlike face
I get moist like a moonstone everywhere.
He steps near enough to touch
my throat
and pride is broken oh hard
diamond heart.
NOTE: In Indian folklore, the moonstone is said to secrete moisture when struck by a moonbeam.
59
Surely in all these houses
girls are coming
of age.
Go inquire: do their
lovers attend them
the way this slave does?
You’ve let the wicked
speak into your ear and disfigure you.
A man suffers like this,
his taste for love
grows bitter.
60
Love is a swollen
river—
urgent, nearly touching
the lovers stand thwarted.
Parents like embankments
hold them back.
Face to face
motionless as paintings
they drink love’s
nectar through lotus-stalk eyes.
61
The sandal paste
is rubbed from your lifted
breasts,
your lip rouge is smeared,
the kohl’s gone from your eyes.
Deceitful messenger
your soft skin’s aroused
and you can’t see your own
sister’s despair!
Tell me you went to the
bathing tank
not back
to that scoundrel.
62
Her cheerless pinched face,
lifeless hair
falling like cinders about it,
brightened the moment I returned
from abroad.
That slender girl’s mouth—
who could forget the sweet moisture,
we drank
love so eagerly.
63
Though chafing
she no longer struggles if I
loosen her skirt.
No scowling no
biting the lip when her
hair’s fingered.
Even opens her
limbs compliantly and does
n’t
resist when I’m rough.
What is this
new expression of anger?
64
Thoughts and
emotions disordered
she wordlessly rebukes the lover
who’s lowered himself
at her feet.
When he rises to go
she’s quite limp
eyes clouded with relentless tears—
thin and unsteady
she stands in his way.
65
Scarlet betel-nut juice
spattered about,
black streaks of sandalwood oil,
smears of camphor,
and imprints
from the henna designs on her feet.
In scattered folds petals
lost from her hair.
Every position a
woman took pleasure from
is told on
these bed sheets.
66
Tell you a secret—
he called me to a secluded seat.
My childlike curious heart fluttered
drawing near.
He spoke in my ear
breathed near my mouth
then, friend, he seized these braids
and sucked the
honey off my lips.
67
Feeling the quick
flush of her period she stood
off from the bed.
His eyebrows begged
an intimate kiss,
his lip trembled.
Shaking her head no—
clutching a shawl to bright cheeks
the many glittering pendants
at her ears.
68
Where to
girl with bright thighs?
There’s no moon tonight.
Out to my lover.
Not afraid, young in the darkness
to travel alone?
Can’t you see—at my side
with lethal arrows the
love god?
69
Tilted his head
when she cast a vine-knotted
brow at her rival.
Saluted and stood
abstractly off
when somebody noticed.
Her cheeks flashed like copper.
He stared at her feet.
Yet in front of the parents they
managed to keep up
appearances.
70
Long minutes her
haunted eyes stared,
with clasped palms she pleaded,
clutched the white robe’s
edge and held him in her torment.
When he pushed past her
and grimly started out
she let go first her hold
on life
then him.
71
She sees smudges of lac on his brow,
on his neck
a bracelet’s imprint,
on his cheek eyeblack
and scarlet streaks of betel-nut juice.
All morning long
she toys with a red lotus,
breathing
deep into its calyx.
72
From this day on
I’ll be no refuge for
bitterness. I won’t even shape
that man’s poisonous
name in my mouth.
Lady Night sheds
bright laughing moon rays without him.
Can’t I get through one
monsoon day darkened
with thunder?
73
Wickedly you drop
your arms from my waist
at the sound of somebody’s
girdle gems.
And I can confide in no one.
My girlfriend’s in a whirl.
She says it’s nothing.
Your venomous words all butter and
honey have
softened her.
74
Finally their quarters
are empty.
She raises herself on the couch
studies his face at length
then searches his sleeping frame
with her mouth.
He isn’t asleep though—
across one cheek
runs a quiver.
With a laugh he
kisses his
bride’s downturned face.
75
Why treat your man
with contempt
when he falls at your feet?
You think he’s too
slow at love?
At her handmaid’s rebuke
anger subsided. Tears pressed forward.
Suddenly she couldn’t
restrain them
couldn’t let go.
76
His replies sounded forced
when he got back.
In his absence she’d
grown lean
and contrived not to notice.
But fearful his evasions
might reach the ears
of judgmental friends, she
cast her eyes quickly about.
Nobody there.
She breathed again
deeply.
77
Look, delicate one, the bed is stained—
intimate love
has caked it with sandalwood powder.
Pulling me onto his chest
he bit my lip roguishly
tore at my gown with his feet
and again
started our raptures.
78
To the family her
endless tears,
to parents her bitterness,
affliction she’s left
to the servants,
stabs of anguish to friends.
Tomorrow she may provide ecstasies
today it is sighs—
but be sure—
she’s already handed around
all the suffering.
79
Let this heart split,
friend—
let Kama twist my thin
body however he likes—
I’m done! Done with that man’s
unreliable
comings and goings.
A burst of embittered words—
then in abrupt alarm
she searches with antelope eyes
the hidden
forest path.
NOTE: Kama (Desire) is the god of love, known by other epithets as well, such as Ananga (Bodiless) and Madana (Intoxicator).
80
His lip
recklessly bruised by some
other girl’s tooth?
She swings a yellow lotus angrily.
He stands
squeezing his eyes.
Did a filament get in—?
Remorse or is it
shrewdness?
She blows softly at his face
through pursed lips.
And no he doesn’t fall at
her feet he just
kisses her.
81
Those first days
of untempered love
my body and
your body were never apart.
The seasons turned.
You came to be my cherished lord,
I the desolate mistress.
Now you’re the husband,
I’m the wife, and the year
&nbs
p; turns again?
Life must be cruel as a thunderbolt
if this is
where it ends.
82
You’re determined
to lead your whole life
like a child?
Develop some pride,
take a risk.
With a lover you need to be forthright.
Her face whitened
at her friend’s admonishment.
Speak softly he’ll hear you—
he dwells
in my heart.
83
By the courtyard well
she hangs on to a
spray from the mango tree.
Black female bees
greedy for loose pollen are swarming,
and I think the lady has wrapped
her slight body with a
bit of cloth.
Her breasts tremble—
she’s choking back the sobs
in her throat.
84
You ignored
the turning seasons of love,
shook off counsel,
and treated your
lovers with cold disregard.
The coals of betrayal flare in your
own bare hands.
The planet is burning.
And now this intractable rage—
like a wild
animal wounded.
85
You’ve rubbed
the feathery patterns from your
cheeks with your
own palms.
Sighs have removed the dew
that rises from within
to your parted lips.
Your breasts quaver but
it’s from hard
tears in your throat.
Bitter girl, anger makes love
to you not I.