Black Marigolds (Chaurapanchasika) · 1919
7
Translated by E. Powys Mathers (Black Marigolds, 1919)
Even now
I see the heavy startled hair of this reed-flute player
Who curved her poppy lips to love dances,
Having a youth's face madding like the moon
Lying at her full; limbs ever moving a little in love,
Too slight, too delicate, tired with the small burden
Of bearing love ever on white feet.
Cite this text
MLA
Bilhana. Black Marigolds (Chaurapanchasika), 7. Translated by E. Powys Mathers. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/work/black-marigolds-mathers/6/.
Chicago
Bilhana. Black Marigolds (Chaurapanchasika), 7. Translated by E. Powys Mathers. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/work/black-marigolds-mathers/6/.