Last Poems: Translations from the Book of Indian Love

But I spoke tenderly, and said, “Beloved, Shall not thy lips give orders to my heart? Yet there is one small matter in these hills Claiming attention ere I can depart.

I, who of lighter love wrote many a verse, Made public never words inspired by thee, Lest strangers’ lips should carelessly rehearse Things that were sacred and too dear to me.

I was sold to the Rao of Ilore, Slender and tall was he. When his litter carried him down the street I peeped through the thatch to see. Ah, the eyes of the Rao of Ilore, My lov...

Others will wrong thee, that I well foresee, Being a man, knowing my fellow men, And they who, knowing, would blame my love of thee Contentedly will see thy beauty given, When t...