English

Saying to himself,
" The white wild jasmine is in flower,
the climbing jasmine is in bud,
the forest has taken on the beauty
of the rains,
and if my love sees it
she will grieve, "

our lover has come back,
not giving himself anymore
to tasks of war,

so that your troubled beauty

Your arms are beautiful again,
the slipping bracelets
stay in place,
and your long streaked eyes
are lit up again,
now that the king
with his high-tusked elephants
is finished with his task,
and your man
with hills on his land
has come back, speeding
on his tall chariot.

As the cassias blossom
in small chains,
long red anthills send forth winged ants,
the animals have no appetite,

the season of rains
is on,
my dear girl,
and your man
who was in love with battle
has remembered

and come home.

As the deer begin to hide
in the bush,
and the millet clusters with ears of grain
and the mountains grieve
as the rains pound and hammer,
look,

O you with those big quiet eyes,

your faraway lover
is back,
old companion of your arms.
Your hair,
fit place for opening buds,
would like flowers now.

The red earth
strewn with many kinds of flowers,
the woods no longer lonely,
my forest paths grew sweet
as I came home:

heart melting
every time I thought
of dense black hair
being braided, made up with flowers,

my girl with teeth sharp as thorns.

Because peacocks moved like you
and jasmine opened
like your brow
and the does had scared looks like you,

my girl,

thinking of you, your lovely brow,
I've come
faster than the rains.

In this time of rain and thunder,

tormented without end,
heartsick
and sicker by the hour,
I've come hurrying,

dear girl,
to bring you back your beauty.

Akananuru 134

Rains in season,
forests grow beautiful.
Black pregnant clouds
bring the monsoons, and stay.
Between flower and blue-gem
flower on the bilberry tree
the red-backed moths multiply,
and fallen jasmines
cover the ground.
It looks like
a skilled man's work of art,
this jasmine country.

Friend, drive softly here.
Put aside the whip for now.
Slow down
these leaping pairs of legs,
these majestic horses
galloping in style

Kuruntokai 131

Her arms have the beauty
of a gently moving bamboo.
Her large eyes are full of peace.
She is faraway,
her place not easy to reach.

My heart is frantic
with haste,

a plowman with a single plow
on land all wet
and ready for seed.

Kuruntokai 108

In the tiny village
on the hillside
where rainclouds play,

the grazing milch cows
remember their young
and return.

In the forest,
the white flowers
of the green-leaved jasmine
redden with the red evening,

and, friend,
I cannot bear it.