She veils her face, that lady shene,

Sakhī:
She veils her face, that lady shene,--
They tell the king: The moon is stolen.
O lovely lover, how may you not be seen
By watchmen keeping watch in every house?

Let not your smile flash out, sweet-face,
Murmur but soft and low the music of your words,--
For near your lips are lustrous teeth.
As near the vermeil mark is set a pearl.

Hearken, hearken, to my words of counsel,
Even in dreams may nothing hinder:
The moon differs from you but in her spots,
For she is stained, and you are stainless.

Ha! Rājā Shivasimha and Lakshmī Dev,
Says Vidyāpati: My heart is fearless.