I Am Pale With Longing For My Beloved; Poem by Mirabai
I Am Pale With Longing For My Beloved;
I am pale with longing for my beloved;
People believe I am ill.
Seizing on every possible pretext,
I try to meet him 'by accident.'
They have sent for a country doctor;
He grabs my arm and prods it;
How can he diagnose my pain?
It's in my heart that I am afflicted.
Go home, country doctor,
Don't address me by my name;
It's the name of God that has wounded me,
Don't force your medicines on me.
The sweetness of his lips is a pot of nectar,
That's the only curd for which I crave;
Mira's Lord is Giridhar Naagar.
He will feed me nectar again and again.
[Translated by Nita Ramaiya]
The pattern repeats across the centuries: the intoxicating love of the saint is not understood by the common man, who looks to apply his cures and reasonings so, among many things, he may ease himself from the vulnerability he feels in the presence of the holy personage before him.
I like it so much, filled with a love feeling. Thank you for sharing.
I love it so much. The longing is the most feeling in the beloved's heart. Thank you for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/5/2024 10:18:40 PM # 1.0.0
This poem impressed me. She lived in an entire other era, but her poems are as it is now, the present time, exactly like our Royal family, so true. Thanks for sharing this brilliant poem