The Spring is gone and dead is the Rose

The Koil from the Sahakara bower has fled,

Cloud-prince, dear yet terrible, Come thou to-night!

The green carpet is there for thee,

But dying is thy bride.

Yet, stay awhile,

Dear and awful Cloud-prince! Stay:

Away from the garden, in forlorn sands I ever pray for thee;

And sleep enchained in a castle of thorns;

While around me in slumber lie snake-guards heaving deep:

In a thorned tower I sleep away my charmed days.

Vain are the morning rays for me

While in dreaming sleep pass night and day;

Ketaki, Queen of thorns am I.

The bee steals away my gold,

But to thee my scent-offering I waft

On the cool wings of the evening breeze;

Dreaming ever of when my black Prince-charmer

will come and rend my chains,

And awaken Ketaki with his magic-wand!

Anon, thou hast come beside me, my dark Cloud-prince dear!

For there dies whispering thy poignant tear on my cheek.

O Life and Love!

Dearer than gold shall be these very sands,

If but my Prince would kiss his Ketaki ere she is cold!

Draw close, and closer, my Prince! before I droop,

And thy coolest kiss upon my brow be laid!

Tho' my lips have not the runaway Rose's glow.

Nor the coming Sephali's graceful sweet perfume.

Am I pale?–

But pale have I grown thro’ waiting,

Because my Prince would never come!

My thorns?–

They but sprouted in bitter shame–

My burning tears be they!

My fragrance bitter-sweet thou mayn't scorn,

For, in severest pain was it fraught!

Ever and ever in forlorn dreary sands I await,

And dwell in fear that he might never come,

My cruel, beloved Cloud-prince.

In distant death tower in dumb lament pine I,

Ketaki, Queen of thorns!

And slumbering serpents guard me round!