Gita Govinda 1.11.12

1.11.12

kāśmīra-gaura-vapuṣām abhisārikāṇāṃ ābaddha-rekham abhito ruci-mañjarībhiḥ |
etat tamāla-dala-nīlatamaṃ tamisraṃ tat-prema-hema-nikaṣopalatāṃ tanoti ||

See'st thou not, my Radha?
Lo, the night, thy bridesmaid,
Comes!--her eyes thick-painted
With soorma of the gloom--
The night that binds the planet-worlds
For jewels on her forehead,
And for emblem and for garland
Loves the blue-black lotus-bloom;
The night that scents her breath so sweet
With cool and musky odours,
That joys to spread her veil of shade
Over the limbs of love;

And when, with loving weary,
Yet dreaming love, they slumber,
Sets the far stars for silver lamps
To light them from above.

Hear'st him not, my Radha?
Lo, night bendeth o'er thee--
Darker than dark Tamâla-leaves--
To list thy marriage-song;
Dark as the touchstone that tries gold,
And see now--on before thee--
Those lines of tender light that creep
The clouded sky along:
O night! that trieth gold of love,
This love is proven perfect!
O lines that streak the touchstone sky,
Plash forth true shining gold!
O rose-leaf feet, go boldly!
O night!--that lovest lovers--
Thy softest robe of silence
About these bridals fold!