romantic poems

You love me not as I love, or when I
Grow listless of the crimson of your lips,
And turn not to your burning finger-tips,
You would show fierce and feverish your eye,
And hotly my numb wilfulness decry,
Holding your virtues over me like whips,
And stinging with the visible eclipse
Of that sweet poise of life I crucify!

How can you pass so proudly from my face,
With all the tendrils of your passion furled,
So adequate and animal in grace,
As one whose mate is only all the world!

In love are all these ills: suspicions, quarrels,
Wrongs, reconcilements, war, and peace again.
Things thus uncertain, if by Reason's rules
You'd certain make, it were as wise a task
To try with reason to run mad.

Winecup and love and loveling I'll nevermore forsake;
Renouncements have I many Made and no more will make.

The Friend's street-dust I value Above the Houris' halls,
Above the meads of heaven And Kauther's nectar-lake.

Their lesson men of insight Teach with a hint: a trope
I've said nor will repeat it, Let whoso may mistake.

The Sheikh to me, in anger, Said, " Go! Leave love. " No need
Is there for strife, my brother: With love I will not break.

This is my whole devoutness, That I the city fair

A little bird high on the branches swinging,
High up and happy in the sun above,
Is looking down upon Catalinota,
Catalinota who lies dead of love.

A gallant youth far off upon the mountains
Hears the chimes ring and wonders: " Can it be
That the bells toll for my Catalinota,
Catalinota, dead for love of me? "

When he is standing high up on the hill-top,
Down there below he sees the torches' light:
" If that should be the torches in procession,
A-carrying her to burial to-night!

A lifetime 'tis that in Love's quest Each day I hither, thither fare,
That still to those of good repute I lift imploring hands in prayer.

So that my day I may not pass Without my love-enkindling moon,
Snares in the way I've set and clapped A bird (my heart) within the snare.

So haply tidings I may gain Of yonder cypress-straight one's shade,
Love's clamour, on all sides, I launch At every goodly-gaited fair.

I know that those blood-raining sighs I heave at eventide and dawn

Now my life has born fair fruit, because my Love has slept beside me.
Not for one second does he leave me, to my heart the Lord is dear.
He accepts my love each moment, and He knows that I am true.
My soul has spread her nuptial bed by the bank of the Tribeni.
Blessed am I, there will I abide in the company of Raghubir.
There will I bring knowledge, devotion, and will receive the Guru's rules.
To this world I return no more, but sing the song of the Unconditioned.
Bulla the mortal has builded him a house, there will he light a lamp.

A girl am I and gladly do rejoice in the new season of the year, thanks be to Love and to my happy thoughts.
Through the green meadows do I go to see the yellow flowers and white and red, the roses on their thorns and the white flowers-deluce; and I go likening them to the face of him who loving me hath captured me, even as she that doth desire naught else save her delight.

The fragrance of love I've scented, The lightning of union see;
Come, breath of the Northland zephyr; I die for the scent of thee.

Guide of the Loved One's camels, Stand and unload; for lo!
Patience, for love and longing, Hath all forsaken me.

Forbear, o my heart, complaining Of separation's night,
In thanks that the day of union Hath from the screen won free.

Since that the Friend excusement Desireth and accord,
One of the watcher's noyance Can unregardful be.

Love is guide enough to farers in Love's road;
Tears the means I made of finding her abode.

How shall she regard the billows of our tears,
She, whose bark o'er bloody oceans ever rode?

This my ill-repute free-willing is not: He
Caused me stray in Love, the pathway me who showed.

Or the fire of fair ones' faces shun or pass
Uncomplaining o'er the flames, on Abram's mode.

Either look to miss thy purpose, or thy foot,
Save with one to guide thee, set not in this road.

The Lord is found in love alone.
Not in knowledge, nor meditation: not in deed, nor caste, nor ordinance.
He is not in Mahabharat nor Ramayana: nor Manu-Smriti nor Vedas.
Not in talking or in wrangles; nor in the differences of faiths.
Not in temples nor in worship: nor in the sound of temple bells.
O Hari Chand, the Lord is swinging bound by the bond of love alone.