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Fantasies of a Love Thief

by Bilhana

Bilhana it is said became involved in a secret affair with the king's young daughter whom he was supposed to be instructing in literature. Discovered by her father, he was condemned to death. In the moments before his execution, he evoked the princess whom he loved in fifty verses whose beauty was so powerful that the Goddess Kali interceded with the king so that the lover would be pardoned. This was originally written in Sanskrit which I have some familiarity with now. May you find what you are looking for.


Even now, I regret her-
gleaming in garlands of gold champac flowers
her lotus face blossoming,
the line of down delicate at her waist<
her body trembling and eager for love
when she wakes from sleep_
magic I lost somehow in recklessness.


Even now, if I see her again,
her full moon face, lush new youth,
swollen breasts, passion's glow,
body burned by fire from love's arrows-
I'll quickly cool her limbs!


Even now, if I see her again,
a lotus-eyed girl
weary from bearing her own heavy breasts-
I'll crush her in my arms
and drink her mouth like a madman,
a bee insatiably drinking a lotus!


Even now, I remember her in love-
her body weak with fatigue,
swarms of curling hair falling on pale cheeks,
trying to hide the secret of her guilt.
Her soft arms cling like vines on my neck.


Even now, I remember her:
deep eyes' glittering pupils dancing wildly in love's vigil,
a wild goose in our lotus bed of passion-
her face bowed low with shame at dawn.


Even now, if I see her again,
wide-eyed, fevered from long parting-
I'll lock her tight in my limbs,
close my eyes, and never leave her!


Even now, I remember her holding the reins in our wild dance of love,
her body trembling with passion-
delicate, bent by lush breasts and heavy hips,
dancing mantled in a mane of flying hair.


Even now, I remember her lying in bed,
spreading perfume of musk mixed with sandlewood oils-
her seductive eyes' lashes playing like a pair of mating birds
caressing each others bills.


Even now, I remember the wine-smeared lips
she innocently licked in love,
her frail form, her wanton long eyes,
her body rubbed golden with saffron paste and musk,
her mouth spiced with camphor and betelnut.


Even now, at the end, I remember my lover's face
colored with sweat drops,
with love-weary tremulous eyes-
a moon disc released by the demon eclipse.


Even now, my mind dwells on the night my sneezing awoke the princess.
Flustered, she refused to say 
"Jiva- long life!"
Silently, she put a lucky golden charm on her ear.


Even now, I remember my love's face:
golden earrings grazing her cheeks as she strove to take the man's role,
beads of sweat strewn thick like pearls from the toil of her rhythmic swinging.


Even now, I remember her bold bent glance,
her graceful limbs stretching in pleasure,
her voluptuous breasts' curve bared by slipping clothes,
her lip bruised with marks of my teeth.


Even now, I remember my love:
hands painted red, like young leaves of ashoka,
tips of breasts caressed by ropes of pearls,
pale cheeks freshened by hidden smiles,
her languorous wild-goose gait.


Even now, I remember the mark my nail left on her sandalewood-powdered thigh-
the gold-streaked cloth I snatched when she rose was clutched in shame as she pulled away.


Even now, I remember in secret her kohl-lined longing eyes,
flower-heavy plaited hair,
vermilion lips framing her teeth's pearl luster,
arms bound by golden bracelets.


Even now, I remember in secret her braid's loosened ties, wilted garlands,
nectar-sweet smiling lips,
strands of pearls caressing luscious swollen breasts, and longing looks.


Even now, I brood on her:
when streaks of light from jeweled lamps broke the darkness in her white pavillion,
I seized the chance to stare at her secretly-
her eyes flashed with shame and fear.


Even now, I remember her,
a fragile fawn-eyed girl,
her body burning with fires of parted love,
ready for my passion-
a beauty moving like a wild goose,
bringing my rich ornaments.


Even now, I remember my love gently laughing,
bent by heavy breasts,
dazzling in ropes of pearls-
a banner of open blossoms flown by flower-armed Love high on the mountain of passion.


Even now, I remember a hundred flatteries spoiling the sense of her words
when she trembled in exhaustion after lover-
the sweet words came in jumbled sounds she whispered faintly,
timidly spoke.


Even now, I remember her eyes trembling, closed after love,
her slender body limp,
fine clothes and heavy hair loose-
a wild goose in a thicket of lotuses of passion.
I'll remember her in my next life
and even at the end of time!


Even now, if I see her again at the day's close,
adoring me with a fawn's liquid eyes and offering her breasts' brimming pots of nectar-
I'll renounce kingly pleasures and even heaven's highest bliss!


Even now, I remember her,
the ideal of amorous women on earth
through the beauty of her body,
the perfect cup for tasting nectar in the play of passion-
my girl, wounded by Love's flower arrows.


Even now, I never forget her,
clinging to my limbs like wet cloth
when her body burned with fires of love's violent passion-
pitiful now without her lover's protection,
my girl makes mockery of life.


Even now, I remember her, first among beautiful women,
an exquisitely molded vessel for passion-
the king's daughter pleading,
"People, I can't bear this fire of parting!"


Even now, knowing death is quickly closing in,
my thoughts leaves the gods,
is drawn to her in wonder.
What can I do?
I am obsessed: "She is my love! Most beloved! She is mine!"


Even now, in pain, I recall her eyes,
trembling like a frightened deer's when she heard my sentence pronounced-
her quavering voice,
tears falling from her eyes,
her face bowed by heavy grief.


Even now, though I strain my vision,
I can't find a face to rival my love's-
its brilliance is blinding,
eclipsing the moon and the beauty of love's consort.


Even now, I remember her,
a poison in short separations,
in reunion ablutions of nectar-
my life's sustainer,
my shield from the burns of love,
is a beautiful girl's rich mane.


Even now, I shudder to face what she tried for my sake-
and still the messengers of Death,
hard, terrible hands, dragged me from her rooms.


Even now, my heart' suffers night and day.
I'll never see again see my love's beautiful full moon face,
glowing with a salty beauty that dulls nectar of night-blooming jasmine.


Even now, my haunted mind broods on her-
forbidden girl, my life's hope,
rich with fresh youth no one now enjoys-
let her be my fate in another life too!


Even now, the sound of bangles strikes my mind sharply:
when black bees, wild in their desire for perfume from her lotus mouth,
swarmed to kiss her cheeks,
her fingers shook them from her hair.


Even now, I remember her bristling with delight when I was so drunk from drinking her mouth's sweet wine that I left a nail mark on her breast-
she stared, studied, treasured the mark.


Even now, I remember her angered face,
her frank impatience to leave as she sullenly gave me her mouth-
I kissed it; she wept violently.
I fell at her feet:
"I'm your slave my love! Love me!"


Even now, my mind finds me idling with her friends,
embracing lovely limbs,
bantering, and dancing in elegant rooms alive with our play-
If only my time could pass there!


Even now, I don't know! Is she Shiva's mate, or a nymph come to earth by Indra's curse,
or Krishna's consort, Lakshmi?
Did Brahma create her to beguile the world, or was he driven by desire to behold the perfect jewel of maiden youth?


Even now, who in the world can paint her form?
It reveals itself, like a creature of fantasy, only for me.
An aspiring artist would have to see it's equal-
and only then begin to try.


Even now, I see her kohl-blacked eyes,
burning mouth, laughter-weary ears.
I see her body weakened by its own swelling breasts-
if it wastes away, who is to blame?


Even now, gleaming white like a clear autumn moon,
her luscious face could charm a saint's pure mind-
in enraptures mine!
If I find it, I'll kiss it and keep drinking lest it slip from me.


Even now, I would give my life to recover love's sanctum-
fragrant with lotus pollen,
wet with the semen of passion,
downfall of the love god.


Even now, in a world rich with signs of beauty surpassing each other's perfections,
my heart believes that her form is beyond compare.


Even now, a wild goose's plump body glides on waves she stirs in a wooded river cove in my mind-
she is pleading some fatigue from a fleeting touch of fire kadamba flower pollen.


Even now, I miss her eyes languidly roving in their youthful wanton way-
the king's daughter seemed like a creature from heaven,
the fallen child of celestial singer,
genii, demigods, musicians, or serpent spirits.


Even now, night and day, I can't forget her waking from sleep-
her curving form made her waist an alter,
her breasts swelled like pots brimming with nectar,
her body shone with richly colored ornaments.


Even now, I remember her languid body rising to a golden glow,
though shame compelled her to pretend exhaustion-
folly broken as our touching limbs and kisses left her wanton, like wild life-giving herbs.


Even now, I remember the love-play battle she fought with empty hands,
in rising and falling rhythms,
wet with hot red blood from tooth marks on her lips and nail marks on her body_
her tyranny bewitched me in the bout.


Even now, how can I endure the loss of my young mistress's gifts?
Only death will cure my pain.
Brothers, I beg you, end it quickly.


Even now, Shiva does not avoid the sea's black poison.
The Tortoise bears the earth on its back.
The Ocean endures insatiable submarine fires.
The faithful keep the promises they make.








From My Blog

A good friend lost

As happens once in a while, a friend from a few years back contacts me to catch up, touch base, say hello. My website and my listing in the alumni page at the University of Dayton School of Law leave a trail there for anyone who might care to find me and speak with me. Careful planning makes it so, unfortunately and for a number of reasons I don't often try to find old friends and old classmates. A Nexus search, a run through Google or a look through the alumni directory would be sufficient for me to find anyone I would desire to find but I don't do it. There is always time. Time sometime later to make that small effort. So as a result I don't look up people. There is always time right? Yah. Well a friend of mine, Marc did take the time to look me up and it was good to hear from him. In our emails back and forth he mentions a fellow classmate, Andy Johnson or as was the running joke for us "Andy's Johnson."

Andy was a tall, gangly fellow with the disposition of a puppy. We'd constantly make our "Andy's Johnson," clever remarks and he'd smile and never took offense and we never meant any. He was a fellow who seemed not to have a hostile bone in his body and it seemed to me that it would never occur to him to say a bad word about anyone. When he would talk it seemed like he was always laughing even when he wasn't. A smile on his face and he'd always be genuinely glad to see you. When he would tell a joke it was like he was a little kid saying something he knew that grownups would disapprove of so his jokes or something funny were told only after he looked around to make sure that someone who might take offense would be out of earshot.

At the end of a long hard week in class he'd come down to the local watering hole that some of us had taken as our own. BW3's on Friday after class was where we would grab some hot wings, some happy hour beer and we'd pull some tables together, enough to accommodate however many of us would show up. Andy would laugh with us and we'd talk about what funny things happened in class. Sometimes he'd get a bit excited, a beer or two down the evening and when he wanted to say something and his words were tripping around on his tongue his eyes would sparkle and the smile on his face would broaden as if to acknowledge that he thought he was being a bit foolish or silly. But we would slap him on his back, laugh at his jokes and generally do the things that friends would do with each other as we recognize everyone who would want to be in the conversation and who would likewise have a patience and joy with us.
I can't begin to tell you how wonderful a person Andy was or how everyone instantly liked him. It's like you can instantly sense who is a good hearted person and who you would like to think of you as a good hearted and good person. I know I thought very well of him and he was the kind of person you hoped thought well of you. He was also the kind of person whose friendship you didn't have to buy. This speaks to a character flaw of mine, I took it for granted that he would be there with a smile and a happy hug for me whenever I did get around to seeing him or contacting him. I know he was the kind of man who would be there for me if I was the kind of person who asked anyone for help or support. A good man with a good soul and a huge heart. My friend Marc told me that he had finally gotten a nice job in Ohio and was on his way to work one morning when he got in a car accident. Andy died that morning. Marc tells me that he thinks about Andy often. I haven't stopped thinking about Andy since hearing about this untimely end to this good young man.

There is no question in my mind that life is not fair. Evil people live and prosper, good people who struggle and fight to get ahead in life die in car accidents. Life is short and brutish and it's a sack full of misery, pain, horror and suffering. A person like Andy makes you almost believe that isn't true, his warm smile and good heart carved a bit of hope and kindness into the world and he will be missed.

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