Kumarasambhava 6.37

6.37

alakāmativāhyeva vasatiṃ vasusampadām |
svargābhiṣyandavamanaṃ kṛtvevopaniveśitam ||

On through the Heaven, o'er tracts of swordlike blue,
Towards the gay City, swift as thought, they flew,—
Bright with high domes and palaces most fair,
As if proud Alaka were planted there,
Or Paradise poured forth, in showers that bless.
The rich o'erflowings of its loveliness.
Round lofty towers adorned with gems and gold
Her guardian stream the holy Ganga rolled;
On every side, the rampant's glowing crown,
Bright wreaths of fragrant flowers hung waving down,—
Flowers that might tempt the Maids of heavenly birth
To linger fondly o'er that pride of earth.
Their noble Elephants, unmoved by fear,
The distant roaring of the Lions hear;
In beauty peerless, and unmatched in speed,
Their thousand coursers of celestial breed;
Through their broad streets bright Sylphs and Minstrels rove,
Their dames are Goddesses of stream and grove.
Hark! the drum echoes louder and more loud
From glittering halls whose spires are wrapt in cloud—
It were the thunder, but that voice of fear
Falls not in measured time upon the ear.
'Tis balmy cool, for many a heavenly tree,
With quivering leaves and branches waving free,
Sheds a delightful freshness through the air—
Fans which no toil of man has stationed there.
The crystal chambers where they feast at night
Flash back the beamings of the starry light,—
So brightly pure that silver glory 's shed,
Playing so fondly round each beauteous head,
That all seem gifted from those Lights above
With richest tokens of superior love.
How blest its Maidens! cloudless is their day,
And radiant herbs illume their nightly way;
No term of days, but endless youth they know.
No Death save him who bears the Flowery Bow;
Their direst swoon, their only frenzy this—
The trance of Love, the ecstasy of bliss!
Ne'er can their lovers for one hour withstand
The frown, the quivering lip, the scornful hand,
But seek forgiveness of the angry fair.
And woo her smile with many an earnest prayer.
Around, wide gardens spread their pleasant bowers,
Where the bright Champac opes her fragrant flowers—
Dear shades, beloved by the Sylphs that roam
In dewy evening from their mountain home.