He <br /> <br />Lift up the veils that darken the delicate moon <br />of thy glory and grace, <br />Withhold not, O love, from the night <br />of my longing the joy of thy luminous face, <br />Give me a spear of the scented keora <br />guarding thy pinioned curls, <br />Or a silken thread from the fringes <br />that trouble the dream of thy glimmering pearls; <br />Faint grows my soul with thy tresses' perfume <br />and the song of thy anklets' caprice, <br />Revive me, I pray, with the magical nectar <br />that dwells in the flower of thy kiss. <br /> <br />She <br /> <br />How shall I yield to the voice of thy pleading, <br />how shall I grant thy prayer, <br />Or give thee a rose-red silken tassel, <br />a scented leaf from my hair? <br />Or fling in the flame of thy heart's desire the veils that cover my face, <br />Profane the law of my father's creed for a foe <br />of my father's race? <br />Thy kinsmen have broken our sacred altars and slaughtered our sacred kine, <br />The feud of old faiths and the blood of old battles sever thy people and mine. <br /> <br />He <br /> <br />What are the sins of my race, Beloved, <br />what are my people to thee? <br />And what are thy shrines, and kine and kindred, <br />what are thy gods to me? <br />Love recks not of feuds and bitter follies, <br />of stranger, comrade or kin, <br />Alike in his ear sound the temple bells <br />and the cry of the muezzin. <br />For Love shall cancel the ancient wrong <br />and conquer the ancient rage, <br />Redeem with his tears the memoried sorrow <br />that sullied a bygone age.<br /><br />Sarojini Naidu<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-indian-love-song/
