Sexual Life in Ancient India: A Study in the Comparative History of Indian Culture v2.c11.54

v2.c11.54

“There is no other on earth, methinks, that so
much evil in his former being has done as I;
for on me now there falls in one long chain
but sorrow after sorrow, my heart and soul it crushes.

My kingdom lost, the farewell from my folk,
my father’s death, the parting from my mother—
when I ponder on all this within me,
then the wild waves of my sorrow are swollen.

But all the sorrow died in me, O Lakshman,
when I went forth into the forest, into want:
I had Sītā! Now it rises again
like fire, set swiftly blazing by the logs.

She so noble, so timid, by the monster
robbed, and snatched up into the air,
she that else speaks in sweet notes—how must
she have uttered sharp cry on cry of fear!

Her face, whose lips so tenderly have spoken,
and girt by a wealth of locks—
it shone surely in the Raksha’s claws
like the bright moon in Rāhu’s maw.

With blood are flecked her rounded breasts,
that ever knew but best of sandal-wood,
red, lovely sandal. O sure it is:
never shall I clasp my dearest one to me.

By me forsaken in the lonely forest,
ringed round and hurried away by the Rakshas,
the woman with great, lovely eyes has in sorrow
mourned like the hen-osprey.

On this rock sat with me
once Sītā of the glorious life.
How sweetly did she smile and laugh, O Lakshman,
and as she prattled, to thee said this and that.