Sarojini Naidu

(13 February 1879 - 2 March 1949 / Hyderabad / India)

An Indian Love Song - Poem by Sarojini Naidu

He

Lift up the veils that darken the delicate moon
of thy glory and grace,
Withhold not, O love, from the night
of my longing the joy of thy luminous face,
Give me a spear of the scented keora
guarding thy pinioned curls,
Or a silken thread from the fringes
that trouble the dream of thy glimmering pearls;
Faint grows my soul with thy tresses' perfume
and the song of thy anklets' caprice,
Revive me, I pray, with the magical nectar
that dwells in the flower of thy kiss.

She

How shall I yield to the voice of thy pleading,
how shall I grant thy prayer,
Or give thee a rose-red silken tassel,
a scented leaf from my hair?
Or fling in the flame of thy heart's desire the veils that cover my face,
Profane the law of my father's creed for a foe
of my father's race?
Thy kinsmen have broken our sacred altars and slaughtered our sacred kine,
The feud of old faiths and the blood of old battles sever thy people and mine.

He

What are the sins of my race, Beloved,
what are my people to thee?
And what are thy shrines, and kine and kindred,
what are thy gods to me?
Love recks not of feuds and bitter follies,
of stranger, comrade or kin,
Alike in his ear sound the temple bells
and the cry of the muezzin.
For Love shall cancel the ancient wrong
and conquer the ancient rage,
Redeem with his tears the memoried sorrow
that sullied a bygone age.


Comments about An Indian Love Song by Sarojini Naidu

  • (10/5/2018 11:29:00 AM)


    It was good and nice (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • (7/26/2018 2:57:00 AM)


    Add a comment.Nice poem (Report) Reply

  • (7/13/2018 11:22:00 PM)


    Best poem for India (Report) Reply

  • Mahtab Bangalee (5/30/2018 1:32:00 AM)


    Revive me, I pray, with the magical nectar
    that dwells in the flower of thy kiss.

    .....

    Thy kinsmen have broken our sacred altars and slaughtered our sacred kine,
    The feud of old faiths and the blood of old battles sever thy people and mine.

    ..............

    What are the sins of my race, Beloved,
    what are my people to thee?
    And what are thy shrines, and kine and kindred,
    what are thy gods to me?

    greatly crafted the words
    (Report) Reply

  • (4/30/2018 10:45:00 AM)


    Oh i love it. (Report) Reply

  • (4/4/2018 9:01:00 PM)


    Indion weavers (Report) Reply

  • (12/27/2017 4:16:00 AM)


    Thank you for the best poems. (Report) Reply

  • (6/3/2014 5:26:00 AM)


    Love recks not of feuds and bitter follies,
    of stranger, comrade or kin,
    Alike in his ear sound the temple bells
    and the cry of the muezzin. - What a superb & subtle feeling
    (Report) Reply

  • (4/23/2014 9:51:00 AM)


    The love and divine grace and subjects in the poem and to recite it is a good experience. Nice and awesome. (Report) Reply

  • (1/6/2010 8:48:00 AM)


    very sweet poem i loved it. (Report) Reply

Read all 10 comments »



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Read poems about / on: father, people, flower, sorrow, kiss, rose, moon, hair, song, red, dream, joy, love, night



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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