Secret meeting
The cow stands quietly to be milked, turning her kind head over her shoulder:
The rest of the herd has passed into the barns:
It is evening.
At the door of her house stands Radha, gently holding the calf
And guessing perhaps that the woman's veil of the milker
Covers the face of her lover.
In a minute, in a minute, he will rise
And come towards her:
The dusk will be full of the sweetness of new milk,
And the sound of the cow breathing as she leans to her calf.
Then he will take her into his arms
And her heart at last will be as quiet as the evening itself.
The rest of the herd has passed into the barns:
It is evening.
At the door of her house stands Radha, gently holding the calf
And guessing perhaps that the woman's veil of the milker
Covers the face of her lover.
In a minute, in a minute, he will rise
And come towards her:
The dusk will be full of the sweetness of new milk,
And the sound of the cow breathing as she leans to her calf.
Then he will take her into his arms
And her heart at last will be as quiet as the evening itself.
Jealousy
The wood is filled with long streamers of flowers,
And birds that sing among the branches.
In a glade Krishna is standing towering above the milkmaids that surround him.
They sway, smiling, from the circle of his arms,
Their draperies swirl along the grass—
Only Rādhā, whom he does not see, stands straight among the bright-eyed flowers,
Like a cypress in her grief.
And birds that sing among the branches.
In a glade Krishna is standing towering above the milkmaids that surround him.
They sway, smiling, from the circle of his arms,
Their draperies swirl along the grass—
Only Rādhā, whom he does not see, stands straight among the bright-eyed flowers,
Like a cypress in her grief.
