Black Marigolds (Chaurapanchasika) · 1919
33
Translated by E. Powys Mathers (Black Marigolds, 1919)
Even now
Sleep left me all these nights for your white bed
And I am sure you sistered lay with sleep
After much weeping. Piteous little love,
Death is in the garden, time runs down,
The year that simple and unexalted ran till now
Ferments in winy autumn, and I must die.
Cite this text
MLA
Bilhana. Black Marigolds (Chaurapanchasika), 33. Translated by E. Powys Mathers. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/work/black-marigolds-mathers/32/.
Chicago
Bilhana. Black Marigolds (Chaurapanchasika), 33. Translated by E. Powys Mathers. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/work/black-marigolds-mathers/32/.