THE SONGS

Annamayya

A Woman to Her Lover

Don't you know my house,
garland in the palace of the Love God,
where flowers cast their fragrance everywhere?

Don't you know the house
hidden by tamarind trees,
in that narrow space marked by the two golden hills?

That's where you lose your senses,
where the Love God hunts without fear.

     Don't you know my house ?

Don't you know the house,
the Love God's marketplace of passions,
the dusk where the dark clears and yet is not clear?

Don't you know the house
where you live in your own heart?
That's where all affections hold court.

     Don't you know my house ?

Don't you know the house
where the garden of daturas make you go mad with love?
You should know: you're the lord of Venkata hill.

Its gates are signed by the Love God,
and you should know that's where
you heap all your wealth.

     Don't you know my house ?

The Other Woman to Venkatesa

Why blame me that I'm jealous?
When she's with you,
shouldn't I be embarrassed?

When you and she talk in private,
shouldn't I stay outside the gate?

When you signal each other with your hands,
shouldn't I hide and look away?

     When she's with you

When you and she look at each other's faces
with me around, shouldn't I hide my face
in my hands?

When you two are covered in a shawl,

isn't it right for me to go play dice?

     When she's with you

When your Alamelu^* is here in town for you,
what's left for me to do but bow my head
to the two of you?

O Venkatesa, the two of you have ruled me.
Isn't it a pleasure to serve you both?

     When she's with you

Her Friends Tease the Woman in Love

These marks of black musk
on her lips
red as buds,
what are they
but letters of love
sent by our lady to her lord?

Her eyes the eyes of a cakora bird,
why are they red in the corners?

Think it over, my friends:
what is it but the blood
     still staining the long glances
     that pierced her beloved
after she drew them from his body
back to her eyes?

     What are they but letters of love ?

How is it that this woman's breasts.
show so bright through her sari?

Can't you guess, my friends?
What are they but rays. from the crescents
     left by the nails of her lover
     pressing her in his passion,

rays now luminous as the moonlight
of a summer night?

     What are they but letters of love ?

What are these graces, these pearls
raining down your cheeks?

Can't you imagine, friends?
What could they be but the beads of sweat
     left on her lotus-face
     by the Lord of the Hills
when he pressed hard,
frantic in love?

     What are they but letters of love ?

A Woman Talking to Herself

Better keep one's distance
than love and part—
especially if one can't manage
seizures of passion.

Make love, get close, ask for more—
but it's hard to separate and burn.
Gaze and open your eyes to desire,
then you can't bear to shut it out.

     Better keep one's distance

The first tight embrace is easy,
but later you can never let go.
Begin your love talk—
once hooked, you can never forget.

     Better keep one's distance

Twining and joining, you can laugh;
soon you can't hide the love in your heart.
Once the lord of the Lady on the Flower
has made love to you,
you can no longer say
it was this much and that much.

     Better keep one's distance

A Woman to Her Lover

O you lover of whores:
I know your ways,
I can see them all.
Why do you need a mirror to see
the jewel on your wrist?

Some woman has tried to hug you hard
with her hand covered with bracelets.
I can still see the print of their curves
on your shoulder. Why tell me lies?
I know your tricks.

     You lover of whores, why do you need a mirror ?

Some woman has comfortably slept
on your chest and the sapphires
of her necklace have left a print
on your skin. Why contest it over and over?
O you love expert, I can't be harsh.

     You lover of whores, why do you need a mirror ?

Some woman has made love to you,
Lord of Venkata hill,
plundered your body's perfumes.

Soon after, you come into my arms.
How can I blame you? My weariness is gone.

     You lover of whores, why do you need a mirror ?

Rudrakavi

Eight on Janardana of Kandukuru

Ksetrayya

The Madam to a Courtesan

Woman! He's none other
than Cennudu of Palagiri.
     Haven't you heard?
     He rules the worlds.

When he wanted you, you took his gold—
but couldn't you tell him your address?
     Some lover you are!
     He's hooked on you.

          And he rules the worlds

I found him wandering the alleyways,
     too shy to ask anyone.
I had to bring him home with me.
Would it have been such a crime
     if you or your girls
had waited for him by the door?
You really think it's enough
to get the money in your hand?
Can't you tell who's big, who's small?
     Who do you think he is?

          And he rules the worlds

This handsome Cennudu of Palagiri,
     this Muvva Gopala,
has falled to your lot.

When he said he'd come tomorrow,
     couldn't you consent
     just a little?
Did you really have to say no?
What can I say about you?

          And he rules the worlds

A Woman to Her Lover

"Your body is my body,"
you used to say,
and it has come true,
Muvva Gopala.

Though I was with you
all these days,
I wasn't sure.

Some woman has scratched
nail marks on your chest,
but I'm the one who feels the hurt.

You go sleepless all night,
but it's my eyes
that turn red.

     "Your body is my body ," you used to say

Ever since you fell for that woman,
it's my mind
that's in distress.

When I look at those charming love bites
she has left on your lips,
it's my lip that shakes.

     "Your body is my body ," you used to say

Maybe you made love
to another woman,
for, O lord who rules me,
my desire is sated.

Forgive me, Gopala,
but when you come back here,
I'm the one who feels small
with shame.

     "Your body is my body," you used to say

A Man Speaks of His Love

What can I do to cool my passion?
Who will bring her,
that gem of a woman,
back to me?

I was able to draw your face,
bright as a lotus,
but could I paint in
its fragrance?

I have drawn your lips,
glowing with desire,
but I couldn't put in
their honey.

     Who will bring her ?

I knew how to draw
your lovely eyes,
but not the trembling glance;

painted the soft lines
of the throat
I know so well,
but could not fill it
with birdlike tones.

      Who will bring her ?

I even painted
the lovemaking,
bodies coiled
in the Snake Position,

but I couldn't paint you
as you cried, all alive,
"Come, come to me again,
Muvva Gopala!"

     Who will bring her ?

A Courtesan to a Young Customer

You are handsome, aren't you,
Adivaraha,^*
and quite skilled at it, too.

Stop these foolish games.
You think there are no other men
in these parts?
Asking for me on credit,
Adivaraha?
I told you even then
I won't stand for your lies.

     Handsome, aren't you ?

Prince of playboys you may be,
but is it fair
to ask me to forget the money?
I earned it, after all,
by spending time with you.
Stop this trickery at once.
Put up the gold you owe me
and then you can talk,
Adivaraha.

     Handsome, aren't you ?

Young man:
why are you trying to talk big,
as if you were Muvva Gopala?

You can make love like nobody else,
but just don't make promises
you can't keep.
Pay up,
it's wrong to break your word.

     Handsome, aren't you ?

A Young Woman to a Friend

Those women, they deceived me.
They told me he was a woman,
and now my heart is troubled
by what he did.

First I thought
she was my aunt and uncle's daughter,
so I bow to her, and she blesses me:
"You'll get married soon,
don't be bashful. I will bring you
the man of your heart."

"Those firm little breasts of yours
will soon
grow round and full," she says.

And she fondles them
and scratches them
with the edge of her nail.

"Come eat with me," she says,
as she holds me close
and feeds me as at a wedding.

     Those women, they told me he was a woman !

Then she announces:
"My husband is not in town.

Come home with me."
So I go and sleep in her bed.

After a while she says,
"I'm bored. Let's play
a kissing game, shall we?
Too bad we're both women."

Then, as she sees me falling asleep,
off my guard,
she tries some
strange things on me.

     Those women, they told me he was a woman !

She says, "I can't sleep.
Let's do what men do."
Thinking "she" was a woman,
I get on top of him.

Then he doesn't let go:
he holds me so tight
he loses himself in me.
Wicked as ever, he declares:

"I am your Muvva Gopala!"
And he touches me expertly
and makes love to me.

     Those women, they told me he was a woman !

A Courtesan to Her Lover

Who was that woman sleeping
in the space between you and me?
Muvva Gopala, you sly one:
I heard her bangles jingle.

As I would kiss you now and then,
I took her lips into mine,
the lips of that woman fragrant as camphor.
You must have kissed her long.

But when I tasted them,
they were insipid
as the chewed-out fiber
of sugarcane.

     Who was that woman ?

Thinking it was you, I reached out for a hug.
Those big breasts collided with mine.
That seemed a little strange,
but I didn't make a fuss
lest I hurt you, lord,
and I turned aside.

     Who was that woman ?

You made love to me first,
and then was it her turn?
Does she come here every day?

Muvva Gopala,
you who fathered the god of desire,
you can't be trusted.
I know your tricks now
and the truth of your heart.

     Who was that woman ?

A Courtesan to Her Friend

It's so late.
He's not coming,
no way.
No use worrying about him.

Just because you've the misfortune
to be my friend,
you needn't wait up till dawn.
You can throw away
the sandal and the musk
and go to sleep.
Who knows where
he is spending the night,
and with what woman?
The whole village is fast asleep.

     It's so late

Listen: every bird
has gone home to his mate.
It's rare we get what we desire.
Still, what was my special sin?

     It's so late

All excited,
I made the bedroom ready,
waiting for my man.
What's the point now

of these ornaments,
all these flowers?
Who will see this beauty?
He's not to be trusted,
this Muvva Gopala,
who has ruled in my bed.

     It's so late

The Courtesan Speaks to Her Lover

I'm seeing you at last.
It's been four or five months,
Muvva Gopala!

Last night in my dream
you took shape before my eyes.
I got up with a start,
looked for you,
didn't find you.
The top of my sari
was soaked with tears.
I turned to water,
gave in to sorrow.
I asked myself
if you might not
be thinking of me, too.

     I'm seeing you at last,
          the answer to my prayers

Ever since we parted,
there's been no betel for me,
no food,
no fun,
no sleep.
I'm like a lone woman
in a forest
after sunset,

soaked through by the rain
in the heavy dark,
unable to find a way.

     I'm seeing you at last,
          the answer to my prayers

My parents blame me,
my girlfriends mock.
This may sound strange,
but I can tell you:
ever since we first made love,
my world
has become you.
I have no mind
other than yours.

     I'm seeing you at last,
          the answer to my prayers

A Courtesan to Her Lover

Why are you so taken? Is she really
more beautiful than all these women?
You can't stop looking at her for a moment.
Why don't you speak your mind?

Does she come to you
flowing with affection
to gather you up in her embrace?
Does she roll you betel leaves,
praise you as the lover
most suited to her love?

Does her passion overwhelm?
I'd love to hear the details
over and over
of what you do
when your minds are one.
Tell me now.

     Why are you so taken ?

Does she let you drink at her lips,
make you beg for one more and one more?
Bring you flowers,
tell you how right you are
for her beauty?

Does she really give you her heart?
Tell me the name of that woman

who prayed to the god of desire
to have you for a husband.
You don't have to be shy.

     Why are you so taken ?

Does she dance with pleasure,
pluck the strings and sing
seductive songs?
Invent new ways of making love
and plead with you then
not to stop,
even as she celebrates your skill?
What's left?
Why tell lies, Muvva Gopala,
when clearly she's the one you crave
while all the time you're making love
to me?

     Why are you so taken ?

A Woman to Her Friend

Friend, I didn't say a word.
It would be a shame
if others were to hear.

He came with a glisten of mascara
still on his lips.
When I said it hurt me,
he made a scene.

When my friends asked me
what had happened,
I laughed it off,
covered it up.

     I didn't say a word

He wasn't afraid to come home
with the red lac from her feet
on his forehead.
Still, he had the nerve
to ask for a hug.

I was furious
but, hiding it,
I protested gently.
I said it wasn't right.
He raised his voice and,

fearing where it might lead,
I gave in.

As in the saying
about the thorn and the banana leaf,
it's always the leaf that gets torn.

     I didn't say a word

Friend, he came here
with her betel juice
staining his neck,
yet asked me for a kiss.
It seemed improper
to hurt a man
who had come to me.

But when he made love to me
as well as ever,
I felt obliged, and

     I didn't say a word

A Courtesan to a Messenger

Why does he send an embassy, standing right in front of me?
Ask him to come in, that Muvva Gopala:
he once lathered the Love God.

There he is, all dressed up;
as the women watch,
he displays his charms.
He stands at the main door and complains,
he curses me every day.
I don't know how long he has stood there.

     But why send an embassy ?

Yesterday he seems to have come all the way here
at midnight and then he turns back—
some maid tells him this is no time to visit:
what are we, princesses?

     But why send an embassy ?

What, hasn't he come and gone as he pleases?
Hasn't he ever joined me in bed?
Now do I have to go all the way and give him a reception?
Maybe my Muvva Gopala is just testing my heart.

     But why send an embassy ?

A Woman to Her Reluctant Lover

Because I'm a good woman, I forgave you this time.
Would any other woman have let you off?

You follow me around like a servant,
you say humble things,
yet when I ask you to come home, you don't.
Why do you hurt me like this?

Now I've got you all alone.
If I hold you prisoner in this house,
who is there to release you?

     Because I'm a good woman

You hold my hands, you say nice things.
But when I ask you to get into bed,
you say, "I've taken a vow," and do nothing.

Now I've caught you.
If I tie you down to my bed,
who is there to release you?

     Because I'm a good woman

Only for a bet in a game you enter my bedroom.
When I call you, "My handsome,

my Muvva Gopala!" why this indifference, dear parrot
in the hand of the Love God?

If I choose to make love to you now,
who is there to stop me?

     Because I'm a good woman

An Older Woman to a Younger

Why complain to me? What are you, a little girl?
Was it a crime to bring you two together? Well, well.

When you two play at love as husband and wife,
if he says something against you, you answer back!

     Why complain to me ?

When he pulls your sari in his passion,
tell him it's not fair!

     Why complain to me ?

When your Muvva Gopala joins you in bed,
if you, my lovely, get ticklish,

     Why complain to me ?

A Woman to Her Friend

When will I get married to the famous Mannaru Ranga?
A daughter's life in a lord's family,
I wouldn't wish it on my enemies.

Some days pass as your parents do your thinking for you.
Some days pass brooding and waiting for the moment.
Some days pass pondering caste rules.
Meanwhile the bloom of youth is gone
like the fragrance of a flower, like a trick of fate.

     I wouldn't wish it on my enemies

Some days pass without any pleasure from your husband.
Some days pass in mere courtesies.
Some days pass in the pride that we are palace women,
looking for quality.
It's a pity all this high passion is like moonlight in a forest.

     I wouldn't wish it on my enemies

Some days pass shilly-shallying, knowing and not knowing.
Some days pass ignorant of the ways of experience.
Some days pass listening to friends' stories of lovemaking.
Alas, womanhood itself has become my enemy,
and I'm tired.

     I wouldn't wish it on my enemies

A Woman to Her Messenger

Has he forgotten me or what?
Go ask him. He knows.

He knows how I went to fetch water.
He knows where he stood at the shore.
He knows when he rattled the chain on the door.
He knows how he asked me, hungrily, to show him my breasts.

     Go ask him, he knows

He knows how he begged me.
He knows how he seductively tossed his kerchief at me.
He knows how he shook his head and laughed.
He knows how he couldn't bear it any more.

     Go ask him, he knows

He knows where he left tooth marks on my lips.
He knows how he said, folding me in his arms, he is Muvva Gopala.
He knows the sheets we were wrapped in.
And he knows how he made room
     and played the Love God with me.

     Go ask him, he knows

A Married Woman to Her Lover

Let me go now to the man
     who put the marriage chain^* round my neck,
for how long can a married woman stay
     in her mother's house, Muvva Gopala?

I can be back in a month for my sister's wedding.
Meanwhile, friend, don't forget our friendship.

This is the only way for family women
     and it's laid down by the gods.
If your kindness lasts,
     this body belongs to you.

          Let me go for now

Couldn't you come and visit me once when the fair is on?
And give me the ring as a mark of love.

You say you can't bear to be away:
     that goes for both of us.
When again and again I beg leave to go,
     don't hold me back by talking.

          Let me go for now

We have done it once. Why don't you let me leave?
Muvva Gopala, is it fair to pester me like this?

If people around hear about us,
     won't it be disastrous?
There's no other way, what can I do?
     God is not pleased with us.

          Let me go for now

A Woman to Her Friend

Friend, tell me, who is more wicked, he or I?
Explain it. Now we'll know who's what.

When we are on the bed of gold,
     playing at love talk,
he calls me Kamalakshi,
     the other woman's name:
I am so mad, I hit him as hard as I can with my braid.

          Now tell me, who is more wicked ?

When lustily I jump on top
     and pound his chest
with my pointed nipples, he says,
     "That girl Kanakangi is very good at this."
I slap him hard with all five fingers.

          Now tell me, who is more wicked ?

After making love, as always,
     I fondle his feet, soft as a young leaf,
when the other woman's
     love potion goes to his head,
he talks in his sleep about her,
     lying right next to me:
so I sink my teeth into his lips.

          Now tell me, who is more wicked ?

A Courtesan to Her Messenger

Today is a good day. Let him come like a prince.

Maybe that woman has been watching Muvva Gopala.
So what? Isn't this body of mine his property?
In this business I'm in,
     is it right to rant and rave?

          Let him come like a prince

Should I leave him just because he is kind?
Tell him then I won't fault him if he mentions her name.
When he comes, I won't treat him any different.
     Isn't this place his house?

          Let him come like a prince

Besides, I'm just as pretty as that pretty thing.
Who took him to task? Not I. Why get a bad name for nothing?
When Muvva Gopala himself makes love to her and likes it,
     who am I to say it isn't proper?

          Let him come like a prince

A Wife to a Friend

Don't tell me what he did in some other country.
What has it got to do with me? For god's sake, stop it.
What are you saying: that he went to her house, fell for her,
     gave her money and begged her?

More likely, she saw his beauty, wanted him,
fell all over him, begged him, melted him with her music.
After all, he's a man. He couldn't contain himself, that's all.

          Don't tell me what he did

All decked in jewelry like a wild cassia in bloom,
a temptress on a mission from the Love God,
she must have stood there and said,
"Hey, handsome! It's not good for you to stay alone.
Come over and sleep in my house."

          Don't tall me what he did

That Muvva Gopala, Lord of Madhura, from the day
he made love to me he hasn't known anyone else.
Nor is he up to any tricks, he is a dignified man.
He must have been angry that I wasn't anywhere near.

          Don't tell me what he did

A Girlfriend to the Woman

Woman: that Varada^* loves you so.
I'm here because I couldn't watch him suffer.

He puts his hand on his cheek,
smiles his little smile,
and says to himself,
"Oh I knew it:
she'll never come back.
I can't forget
the love we had before.
To live without making love
to that lovely girl—
is that called living?"

     That Varada, he loves you so

He is quiet for a while,
and then he sighs:
"Where did I go wrong?
I can't bear
to be apart from you
even for a little while.
My mouth cannot speak," he says,
and buries his head in his hands.
If I ask, he only says,
"What help can you be?"

     That Varada, he loves you so

That Varada, that Muvva Gopala,
he babbles on and on.
"The miracle
that happened then,
will it happen again?"
He thinks, and sighs,
and sighs again,
and says, "This is what fate has done.
This dreadful thing
called love—
I wouldn't wish it on my enemies."

     That Varada, he loves you so

A Woman to Her Friend

What can he do worse than this?
And what's left?
Out of sheer spite,
he stays in that woman's house.

When I go hungrily to embrace him,
he says, "Stay away!"
When innocently I say,
"Give me the honey of your lips,"
he says, "That's pollution."
When I say, without thinking,
"Give me a bit of that betel in your mouth,"
he yells at me and says, "No!"
Such indifference
in front of my peers
is too much!

     What can he do worse ?

When I'm close,
if I offer to roll betel for him,
he says, "Not my taste."
If I say, "Let me look at your face
from this far,"
he says, "No, don't."
When I go to massage his feet,
he says, "It's too late. Go away."

He says, "I've forgotten
all my love for you."

     What can he do worse ?

Even to people
in the street he says,
"My love for her has turned."
He vows never to speak
nicely to me again.
Arguing, he says,
"I want nothing to do with you"—
and gives me the betel^* —
this same Muvva Gopala
who once so lustily
made love to me.

     Whan can he do worse than this ?

A Courtesan to Her Lover

Pour gold as high as I stand, I still won't sleep with you.
Why be stubborn, Muvva Gopala? Why all these tricks?

You set women afloat on your words,
break into their secret places,
deceive them with affectionate lies,
excite them in love play,
get together the whole crowd one day,
and then you steal away like a spinach thief.

     Pour gold as high as I stand

You coax women's affections,
make them amorous and faint,
do things you shouldn't be doing,
confuse them, lie in bed with them,
and then you leave without a sound,
shaking your dust all over them.

     Pour gold as high as I stand

You opportunist,
you excite them from moment to moment,
make mouths water,
show them love to make them surrender,
drown them in a sea of passion,

and by the time the morning star appears—
you get up and vanish.

     Pour gold as high as I stand

A Woman to Her Friend

Go ask him:
is it for nothing I get angry?
Don't be naive.

     Go ask him and make him swear
          to tell the truth

When my maid runs into him
when he is on his way
to that woman's house,
who gets scared
and offers her the bribe,
is it him or is it me?

I'm not imagining things.
Who is it that said
before all the neighborhood women,
"I can't live without seeing that woman,"
is it him or is it me?

     Go ask him and make him swear

Standing on her doorstep
as if he had no fears,
who sees me in the street

and hides behind the door?
Is it him or is it me?

When he comes home tired
and I give him porridge with sugar,
who is it that says,
"The taste isn't half as good as her lips,"
is it him or is it me?

     Go ask him and make him swear

Languishing, who draws
her picture on a slate,
holds it in his palm
and stares at it,
is it him or is it me?

When, in making love,
I embrace Muvva Gopala,
who sighs and sighs
for that other woman,
is it him or is it me?

     Go ask him and make him swear
          to tell the truth

A Married Woman Speaks to Her Lover

I can't stay too long.
I have to get home.
There's no time for all the fun.
Don't get me in trouble,
my clever man.

I left my husband's embrace
to come here
just because you called.
You want to leave your nail marks
on my breasts—
I'm no prostitute!

I have no quarrel with you.
Satisfy your need
and send me away.
Listen, lover:
it's not good for your health
to lose too much sleep.
Why argue with me?

     Can't stay too long

You're biting my lips too hard.
How can I hide the marks?
Because sugarcane is sweet,
you want to pull it up,
root and all.

It's hard to bear.
Just because I'm so taken with you,
you trap me in your net of magic,
you clever man.

     Can't stay too long

You've made love to me often enough
for today.
Let go for now, Muvva Gopala,
my lord.
Is it right to be stubborn now?
Is there a limit to greed?
The more you make love,
the more you want it.
This body of mine is your property.
I'll come whenever you want me.
Be good to me,
my clever man.

     Can't stay too long

A Woman to Her Girlfriends

What can I do about this?
What can I say?
This stupid heart of mine
has lost all shame.

When I hear from the girls
that he has gone to her house,
I promise myself
I'll swear an oath and say:
Don't ever come here.
But the moment I see his face,
my desire doubles.
Where does it go,
my fury, a tigress
with new cubs?

     This stupid heart

I hear he has sent gifts to her door
and I decide I'll never see his face.
And you know what happens?
He comes to me, holds me,
and I don't even remember my rage.

     This stupid heart

I hear he was seen in her house
and I decide: from now on,
I'll make his life miserable.
Then that Muvva Gopala,
he comes happily
and makes love to me,
and I forget all my vows.

     This stupid heart

A Courtesan to Her Girlfriend

Fate that brought us together
so soon has put us apart.
No point in thinking:
that's what I get
for all my worship.

Did we spend even six months
happily in one place?
When I was hurting, passionate for love,
were our minds really one?

I only suffered the scandal,
but did we ever spend an hour
touching thigh to thigh?
Did we ever have a day whispering
each other's names?

     Fate has put us apart

Did my lord and I, any day,
play properly
at love?
Did we ever press
lip to red lip,
tasting the sweetness?

     Fate has put us apart

Did we ever lie twined,
till we were done,

in each other's arms?
In bed, did we ever play
even for fun
at husband and wife?

     Fate has put us apart

Did we ever sing, in pleasure,
even one measly song
about Muvva Gopala?
Did we ever talk sweetly
about nothing in particular,
lying on flowers?
Did we ever stay up all night
long after sundown?

     Fate has put us apart

Time that brought us close
has left me burning:
fate that brought us together
so soon has put us apart.

A Married Woman to Her Lover

My old husband is better than you, and that's the truth.
You promise sweet things in private
and only now you show your face!

Where can I hide my desire,
to whom shall I give it now?
Enough, enough, go away.
Enough of this adventure at this ungodly hour!

     My old husband is better than you !

Like a parrot waiting
for the fruit of the silk-cotton tree
I fell for your looks
and came to you.

     My old husband is better than you !

Fighting off sleep all night
waiting for you, it was like pouring
into water what was meant for a fire.
It's late. I've got to go home, Muvva Gopala.

     My old husband is better than you !

A Courtesan to the Messenger

Don't go on chattering, just go away.
Why should he come here?
Tell him not to come.

It all happened so long ago,
in a different age,
another life.
Who is he to me, anyway?

Think of the long nights I spent
waiting for him, minute after minute,
saying to myself, "He'll come today,
he'll come tomorrow!"—

the hot sighs,
lips dry with longing,
nights aflame with moonlight.
What more is there to say?

     Just go away !

I wore myself out watching the road.
Counting the moons, I grieved.
Holding back a love I could not hold,

listening to the screeching
of peacocks and parrots,
I passed the months of spring.
Let's have no more empty words.

     Just go away !

I even asked the birds for omens
if Muvva Gopala was coming.
I grew weak, watching my girlfriends
join their husbands for love.

O god, do I ever have to see
his face again
with this body of mine?
Once was enough!

     lust go away !

A Courtesan to Her Friend

Let him go as he pleases.
Friend, let my lord Muvva Gopala go as he pleases.

I hear
he begged his girlfriend,
bowed to her, folding both his hands,
complained of this and that to her about me,
and he promised her things, behind the temple.

Let my lord be well, wherever he is, that's enough.

     Let him go as he pleases

I hear he said
he would be Struck by evil if he even looked
in my direction;
he fingered his mustache and bragged to her.

I hear
he said my name, broke a reed
and threw it away.^*

A thousand qualities at every step, who can straighten him out?

     Let him go as he pleases

I hear he said
he first made love to me just because he was tricked;

he swore to god never to touch me again;
in an assembly he said I'm a brazen woman.

Yet if love has taken root in his heart, he'll be kind one day.

     Let him go as he pleases

A Senior Courtesan to a Younger One

Are you done with your anger?
Have you finally talked, my dear,
to one another,
you and your Muvva Gopala,
and stopped being angry
at last?

Have your hearts cooled off
and found a little peace?
Tell me the truth:
is all that grieving
over for today?
Could you finally have
one good day?
He over there,
you here,
with these endless sighs in between!

     Are you done with your anger ?

Have you looked
at each other's faces,
taken sweet kisses
from your lips,
pressed body against body?
Why treat one another
like a hunter and his prey?

     Are you done with your anger ?

Today, at least,
have you shared a single bed
and praised, I hope,
each other's skills in love?
You've finally come together,
haven't you,
you and your Muvva Gopala,
confessing over and over
that you listened to slander
like fools.

     Are you done with your anger ?

A Courtesan to a Messenger

You want to know, my graceful friend,
how skilled he has become
at making love?
Just go bring that Muvva Gopala to me.

All I know is that he came here,
smiling that smile of his,
and took me by the hand,
but I don't even know that he took off the sari
from my breast.

I know he combed down my long hair
and covered it with flowers,
but I know nothing of those violent
red lips
pressed on mine.

     Just go bring that Muvva Gopala to me

I know he leaned toward my ear
to tell me secrets,
but I couldn't hear
his words.

I know he kissed my neck
with passion,
but I don't know
of any fingernails
clawing at my cheeks.

     Just go bring that Muvva Gopala to me

I know he embraced me,
my lover, Muvva Gopala,
but I know nothing
about the crush
of our two bodies.

You know, my friend
with the body of a flower,
that I don't really know
he untied the knot of my sari
and did, inside me,
whatever he has done.

     Just go bring that Muvva Gopala to me

A Married Woman to Her Lover

Go find a root or something.
I have no girlfriends here I can trust.

When I swore at you, you didn't listen.
You said all my curses were blessings.
You grabbed me, you bastard,
and had me by force.
I've now missed my period,
and my husband is not in town.

     Go find a root or something

I have set myself up for blame.
What's the use of blaming you?
I've even lost my taste for food.
What can I do now?
Go to the midwives and get me a drug
before the women begin to talk.

     Go find a root or something

As if he fell from the ceiling,
my husband is suddenly home.
He made love to me last night.
Now I fear no scandal.
All my wishes, Muvva Gopala,

have reached their end,
so, in your image,
I'll bear you a son.

     Go find a root or something

A Woman to Her Lover

If your mind is like mine,
my prayers will be answered.
As if sugarcane should begin to bear fruit,
my pleasures would be doubled many times

     if your mind is like mine

If aimlessly I doodle with my fingernail,
it's your shape that appears.
The moment I wake from sleep,
it seems you're close to me.
You know such is my love, Varada.
To whom can I say

     your mind is like mine ?

If I turn
as I go upstairs
and see my shadow,
I feel you're coming with me.

When I sing with the tambura drone,^*
it feels like you are singing along.
The very sound of what I say
sounds like your reply.
There's nothing like my love, Varada.
You know that: to whom can I say

     your mind is like mine ?

I'm always filled with joy,
and the joy is always
of holding you.

Even if I think your name,
O Varada with the goddess,^*
it's as if we're making love.
It pleases me
when all my girlfriends
say you're my friend.
You alone
know the secret of my longing.
Whom can I ask

     if your mind is like mine ?

A Woman to Her Friend

The lord who always slept
with his head on my breasts
is—ayyayyo! —now sick of me.

His eyes fixed, unblinking,
on my face,
he would say,
"When dusk falls,
your face, alas,
will be hidden in the dark,"
and than ask me,
in broad daylight,
for a lamp.

     Ayyayyo, he's now sick of me

Biting my mouth in love play,
since to talk would be to let go,
my lord would speak only
with his hands.

     Ayyayyo, he's now sick of me

Lest in sleep
his embrace should loosen,

he would ask me to tie down
the four corners of our blanket.

     Ayyayyo, he's now sick of me

A Courtesan to Her Lover

Why have you come here? Go away,
her house is not here on this street.

Muvva Gopala,
you who lifted the Mandara mountain,^*
are you here looking for that woman
with teeth like jasmine buds?

You must have lost your way
in this flooding moonlight,
or else you lost yourself
in that woman, with eyes darting
like fish.

I know I'm not the one
who embraced you
and put your mind at rest.

     Go away, her house is not here

I can see all the signs
of what you've been doing
till midnight,
you wicked man.

Still you come rushing
through the streets,
sly as a thief,
hurrying to untie my blouse.

     Go away, her house is not here

You're much too drunk with passion
to leave me.
Stop now.
You're making love to me
with twice the fury.
It's morning.
Get up,
before the women come
and see us.

     Go away, her house is not here

A Woman to Her Friend

If the betel girl^* him,
wouldn't it be a scandal?
My Muvva Gopala has gone astray.

When I'm not around he worships her
with his eyes.
Like a randy rogue,
he puckers his mouth for a kiss.

When he takes the folded betel from her,
he's thrilled and scratches her hand
with his fingernail.

She backs away and says,
"O no! With me, it's wrong!"
and comes running to me in haste.

     Wouldn't it be a scandal!

It seems he says, "People are around.
Close the door and come in."
Again and again, he makes obscene jokes.

When she says, "No, don't come too close,"
he tries to put his hand in her sari.
Because she's a proper woman, she talks back
and comes running to me.

     Wouldn't it be a scandal!

It seems he says, "I'm here only for you."
He even gnashes his teeth and threatens her.
He says, "Look, if I don't make love to you,
then call me a betel woman."

And to think
I rushed to make friends
with this Muvva Gopala!

     Wouldn't it be a scandal!

A Woman to Her Lover

How soon it's morning already!
There's something new in my heart,
     Muvva Gopala.

Have we talked even a little while
to undo the pain of our separation till now?
You call me in your passion, "Woman, come to me,"
and while your mouth is still on mine,

          it's morning already!

Caught in the grip of the Love God,
angry with him, we find release drinking
at each other's lips.

You say, "My girl, your body is tender as a leaf,"
and before you can loosen your tight embrace,

          it's morning already !

Listening to my moans as you touch certain spots,
the pet parrot mimics me, and O how we laugh in bed!

You say, "Come close, my girl,"
and make love to me like a wild man, Muvva Gopala,
and as I get ready to move on top,

          it's morning already!

Sarangapani

The Madam to a Courtesan

He pays you in rupees of lead
knotted to your sari:
couldn't you even check,
you fool?

He makes promises,
then works on you till dawn,
that Muvva Gopala,
and pays you in rupees of lead.

Like an honest man, he sends you letters,
that cheat who turns you on,
then eats you out of betel leaves,
sticks his tongue out at you,

     and pays you in rupees of lead

Holds you tight,
not letting you go,
attacks and wounds
your lips,
touching you in places
you don't let anyone touch,
making you shameless.

Plucks a hair off his body
and throws it at your house,

     and pays you in rupees of lead

Makes love to you
and rouses you,
then tucks the pleats
of your sari back in place.

If you fall asleep,
he slaps you awake
and shows you what he's got,

     and pays you in rupees of lead

A Customer to a Courtesan

Is there any rule
that it must be you?
If I have money,
there's always your sister.

Or if not her, her sister.
No one does it for merit.
Even Rambha in heaven
demands her fee.^*

Where was this love of yours
when I came begging to you then
and fell, infatuated,
at your feet?

Didn't you say you wouldn't talk
unless you got the pendant?
If I scatter rice,
will there be a shortage of crows?

     There's always your sister

When I put in your box
a sixty-rupee roll of nagiri silk,
didn't you wear it as a frock?
If it rains, will it cure my welts?

     There's always your sister

So what if you called to me, "Venugopala!"
craved me,
made love on top of me?
It's even better
than the story of the date-palm seed.

Why would a picotta^* stoop so low
except to bring water
from the depths?

     There's always your sister

The Madam to a Young Courtesan

Grab whatever cash he has,
that Venugopala,
and think nothing of the rest.

As they say about lentils,
don't worry
about the chaff.

Does it matter
to which woman he goes,
or how late he stays there?

Just pass the days
saying yes and no,.
till the month is over

     and grab the cash

What is it to you
if he runs into debt
or if he has an income?

Quietly, tactfully,
lie in wait
like a cat on a wall

     and grab the cash

What if he makes love
to her
and only then to you?

What's there
to be jealous about?
When youth passes,
nothing will go your way,

     so grab the cash

A Married Woman's Complaint

If my husband becomes my pimp,
what am I then to him?

Venugopala throws away money,
and says to my husband,
"I'll build you a two-storied house;
look at these ornaments,
this cartload of vessels,"
and adds, "You won't have a worry in the world".:

     so my husband becomes my pimp

The man says he can't earn any more.
He's fed up with working.
Not even one child is in good shape.
And if I don't agree,
he'll renounce the world.

     My husband becomes my pimp .

He says he can't take poverty,
that whoring is no sin,
especially with his permission.
If I don't consent,
he calls me "Ah, Super-Chaste."
He can't wait
to see me sell myself.

     My husband becomes my pimp

He says you can't cross
a husband's word,
and cites a thousand
precedents in the texts.
Past sixty, and in his dotage,

     my husband becomes my pimp

He says I should sleep
with Venugopala,
dress up like a harlot.
But is life worth more than honor?
Friend, tomorrow he'll find out
for himself.

     My husband becomes my pimp

A Wife's Complaint

How is this household
going to survive?
Tell me what to do
with all these lewd antics
of lord Venugopala,
scion of the Gokula clan.

Takes no care of his house.
Finds good advice bitter.
Wants special meals.
Hangs out with pimps.

     Tell me what to do

Sleeps in whorehouses.
Throws away money on sluts.
Scratches his creditors
for luxuries,
with not a drop of ghee
in our house.

     Tell me what to do

But there's no end of dancing songs,
not to speak of the lute.
He bets on cocks at the fights.^*

     Tell me what to do

I have a single sari to wear and to wash.
Can't even mention a second blouse.
Turmeric has become my gold,
and my ears are bare.

     Tell me what to do

And then I have to listen daily
to his affairs with those women.
Even my curses don't stir him.

It's been seven years
since we've been in bed.
Women of my age
are mothers of children.

     Tell me what to do

To an Older Woman

All those days he called you,
you were too proud.
Now you're circling
his house.

Are you in love,
after you're past
the age for men?
Don't be coquettish now.
All those days Venugopala called you,
you were too proud.

     Now you're circling his house

Hasn't your face
hardened with age?
Pale lips,
wobbling rows of teeth,
body lustreless,
beauty dulled.
But all those days that kind man
fell at your feet and begged,
you were too proud.

     Now you're circling his house

Look at you:
half your hair is gray.
You barely look like a woman.

Forty, and nearsighted,
you don't have breath enough to sing.
All those days that handsome man
begged you not to be cross,
you were too proud.

     Now you're circling his house

You've cleaned up
your place of love
and made it look new.
You've come alone
at this time of night
on this lonely path.
If Venugopala does you the favor
of sleeping with you,
won't people laugh?

     Now you're circling his house