Читать книгу Seven Hundred Elegant Verses - Govardhana - Страница 50

While he was in love, he did not say anything, even when I hit him; but now, due to his cruel nature, he says harsh things, my female friend!—like a kettle drum that while in a wet condition makes no sound when struck, but in its dried-up state utters loud noises.

Carrying out her orders, and enduring her whipping and insult, I am truthfully hers; but she is not pleasant in her conduct, and knows to say unpleasant things.

When the milkmaid had pulled the churning stick in the vessel of milk so much that her tender arms were exhausted and yet she did not obtain the Parijata tree, she put the blame on the Creator.*

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There was no tantrum, nor any talk among her friends about my misconduct that (surely) deserved censure; even in front of me the beautiful girl was ashamed, since she had lost confidence in her ability to make love properly.*

The river produces a welcoming whitewash with its whirl-pools white with foam, and sings a song with its mur-muring waves to celebrate the union with its lover.

This your sleepiness during the day that prevents you from getting up and does not let your eyes stay open—we do not know what it is going to tell about you, like a co-wife who deprives one of on exalted position and frown angrily—what will she speak to you!