WHAT can rival your lovely hue O gorgeous boon of the spring? The glimmering red of a bridal robe, Rich red of a wild bird's wing? Or the mystic blaze of the gem that burns On the brow of a serpent-king? What can rival the valiant joy Of your dazzling, fugitive sheen? The limpid clouds of the lustrous dawn That colour the ocean's mien? Or the blood that poured from a thousand breasts To succour a Rajput queen? What can rival the radiant pride Of your frail, victorious fire? The flame of hope or the flame of hate, Quick flame of my heart's desire? Or the rapturous light that leaps to heaven From a true wife's funeral pyre? |