Black Marigolds (Chaurapanchasika) · 1919
25
Translated by E. Powys Mathers (Black Marigolds, 1919)
Even now
I call to mind her weariness in the morning
Close lying in my arms, and tiredly smiling
At my disjointed prayer for her small sake.
Now in my morning the weariness of death
Sends me to sleep. Had I made coffins
I might have lived singing to three score.
Cite this text
MLA
Bilhana. Black Marigolds (Chaurapanchasika), 25. Translated by E. Powys Mathers. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/work/black-marigolds-mathers/24/.
Chicago
Bilhana. Black Marigolds (Chaurapanchasika), 25. Translated by E. Powys Mathers. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/work/black-marigolds-mathers/24/.