Ramayana 4.3d

So, Lakshman, if my large-eyed dear, The child of Janak still were here, She, by love's thrilling influence led, Upon my breast would lay her head. These blooms I gathered from the bough Without my love are useless now. A thousand blossoms fair to see With passing glory clothe each tree That hangs its cluster-burthened head Now that the dewy months(528) are fled, But, followed by the bees that ply Their fragrant task, they fall and die. A thousand birds in wild delight Their rapture-breathing notes unite; Bird calls to bird in joyous strain, And turns my love to frenzied pain. O, if beneath those alien skies, There be a spring where Sita lies, I know my prisoned love must be Touched with like grief, and mourn with me. But ah, methinks that dreary clime Knows not the touch of spring's sweet time. How could my black eyed love sustain, Without her lord, so dire a pain? Or if the sweet spring come to her In distant lands a prisoner, How may his advent and her met On every side with taunt and threat? Ah, if the springtide's languor came With soft enchantment o'er my dame, My darling of the lotus eye, My gently speaking love, would die; For well my spirit knows that she Can never live bereft of me With love that never wavered yet My Sita's heart, on me is set, Who, with a soul that ne'er can stray, With equal love her love repay. In vain, in vain the soft wind brings Sweet blossoms on his balmy wings; Delicious from his native snow, To me like fire he seems to glow. O, how I loved a breeze like this When darling Sita shared the bliss! But now in vain for me it blows To fan the fury of my woes. That dark-winged bird that sought the skies Foretelling grief with warning cries, Sits on the tree where buds are gay, And pours glad music from the spray. That rover of the fields of air Will aid my love with friendly care, And me with gracious pity guide To my large-eyed Videhan's side.