Love Poems

Strange Is the Path of Love, by Mirabai.

Do not mention the name of love,
O my simple-minded companion.
Strange is the path
When you offer your love.
Your body is crushed at the first step.

If you want to offer love
Be prepared to cut off your head
And sit on it.
Be like the moth,
Which circles the lamp and offers its body.
Be like the deer, which, on hearing the horn,
Offers its head to the hunter.
Be like the partridge,
Which swallows burning coals
In love of the moon.
Be like the fish
Which yields up its life
When separated from the sea.
Be like the bee,
Entrapped in the closing petals of the lotus.

Mira's lord is the courtly Giridhara.
She says: Offer your mind
To those lotus feet.  

Related Products: Visit our store

Read more from this blogger: Strange is the Path of love — Poet Seers

If I Were (Ami Jodi Hotam), by Jibanananda Das, translated from the Bengali by Dr. Masum Z. Hasan.

If I were a wild-drake
Wild-duck, if you were
Somewhere on the horizon on the bank of Jolsirhi river
By a paddy field
Amidst slander reed
Resting in a tranquil nest,

Then on this Phalgun night
Watching the moon rising at the backdrop of Jhau branches
We, leaving the scent of low-land water,
Would have floated ourselves in the silvery crop of the sky -
Your wing touching mine, my wing feeling your blood beat -
Blue sky studded with numerous stars like the golden flowers of Khoi field,
In the green thick nest of Shirees forest
Like the golden egg
Phalgun moon |

Perchance the sound of a gun-fire:
Our sharp movement,
Pumping ecstasy in our wing,
We sing the song of northern wind |

Perchance the sound of a gun-fire again:
We are silent,
We are at peace |
Life's piecemeal death would not have been there;
Would not have been frustration and darkness of life's piecemeal desires;
If I were a wild-drake
Wild-duck, if you were 
Somewhere on the horizon on the bank of Jolsirhi river
By a paddy field |

From the Tamil epic poem Cilappatikaram.

Frail ankles bejeweled with circlets,
Madhavi, that beauty of Puhar,
Displayed upon the stage her dance,
her precise diction, subtle sense of time,
her knowledge of all rhythmic patterns,
of the five sorts of temple songs,
of the four systems of music,
of the eleven kinds of dance.
Her fame spread to the ends of the world.

Related Products: Visit our store

Read more from this blogger: Welcome to Kuviyam

From Gita Govinda.

I, the kingly poet Jayadeva,
am going to write Gita Govinda,
the romance of Radha and Krishna,
in the following way.
Like the murals on the house walls,
Saraswati, the deity of speech,
is now coloring my soul with stories.
I’ve become the king of poets
worshipping at goddess-Lakshmi’s feet
and loving my wife, Padamavati
who put rhythms to my lyrics
by dancing on her feet.

O people of grace!
if you hearts are
seeking Krishna’s love
and you desire to know
how women flirt with men,
then listen to Jayadeva’s song
singing praises of Krishna
in most pleasing words.

Related Products: Visit our store

Read more from this blogger: Random Poetry Translations---Gita Govinda by White Wings on Sulekha

Summer, by Kalidasa.

Pitiless heat from heaven pours
  By day, but nights are cool;
Continual bathing gently lowers
  The water in the pool;
The evening brings a charming peace:
  For summer-time is here
When love that never knows surcease,
  Is less imperious, dear.

Yet love can never fall asleep;
  For he is waked to-day
By songs that all their sweetness keep
  And lutes that softly play,
By fans with sandal-water wet
  That bring us drowsy rest,
By strings of pearls that gently fret
  Full many a lovely breast.

The sunbeams like the fires are hot
  That on the altar wake;
The enmity is quite forgot
  Of peacock and of snake;
The peacock spares his ancient foe,
  For pluck and hunger fail;
He hides his burning head below
  The shadow of his tail.

Beneath the garland of the rays
  That leave no corner cool,
The water vanishes in haze
  And leaves a muddy pool;
The cobra does not hunt for food
  Nor heed the frog at all
Who finds beneath the serpent's hood
  A sheltering parasol.

Dear maiden of the graceful song,
  To you may summer's power
Bring moonbeams clear and garlands long
  And breath of trumpet-flower,
Bring lakes that countless lilies dot,
  Refreshing water-sprays,
Sweet friends at evening, and a spot
  Cool after burning days.

Related Products: Visit our store

Read more from this blogger: Kalidasa: Shakuntala and Other Works: The Seasons

Are You Looking for Me?, by Kabir. Click through for commentary. This is an Eastern Indian love poem.

Are you looking for me?
I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.
You will not find me in the stupas,
not in Indian shrine rooms,
nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals:
not in masses, nor kirtans,
not in legs winding around your own neck,
nor in eating nothing but vegetables.
When you really look for me,
you will see me instantly --
you will find me in the tiniest house of time.

Related Products: Visit our store

Read more from this blogger: Mahamandaleshwar Premabrahmananda: Commentary On A Poem By Kabir

PLS gives us a lengthy and positive review of Indian Love Poems, noting:

This delightful compendium of translations selected and edited by poet Meena Alexander for the Everyman’s Library Pocket Poet series is tiny, only 250 pages, but it’s an encyclopedia in disguise: nothing’s missing.

Related Products: Visit our store

Read more from this blogger: WhirledView: Indian Love Poems for your Valentine