Narsinh Mehta: Poem 5 The Foot of the Bed

The Foot of the Bed

To the foot of the bed, I shall tie your arms,
With flower-ropes, shamelessly.
Who will release you from my temple?
What will my rivals do with their anger? … To the foot of the bed

You are called the gardener, I the flowering vine.
Why plant me if you won’t water me?
Were you a honeybee craving for nectar,
You’d breathe your last in this lotus heart…. To the foot of the bed

The Loving One offers His soul, mind, body
To the beloved’s own palace.
Says Naarsinhyo: O gopi, why won’t you teach me
How to win back His fancy? … To the foot of the bed

 

 

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About semiophile2010

word lover, meaning maniac, bilingual with metalingual interests, sometimes potter, poet, playwright, writer, mover to music, always a pontificator.
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