EYES ravished with rapture, celestially panting, what passionate bosoms aflaming with fire <br />Drink deep of the hush of the hyacinth heavens that glimmer around them in fountains of light; <br />O wild and entrancing the strain of keen music that cleaveth the stars like a wail of desire, <br />And beautiful dancers with houri-like faces bewitch the voluptuous watches of night. <br />The scents of red roses and sandalwood flutter and die in the maze of their gem-tangled hair, <br /> <br /> <br />And smiles are entwining like magical serpents the poppies of lips that are opiate-sweet; <br />Their glittering garments of purple are burning like tremulous dawns in the quivering air, <br />And exquisite, subtle and slow are the tinkle and tread of their rhythmical, slumber-soft feet. <br /> <br /> <br />Now silent, now singing and swaying and swinging, like blossoms that bend to the breezes or showers, <br />Now wantonly winding, they flash, now they falter, and, lingering, languish in radiant choir; <br />Their jewel-girt arms and warm, wavering, lily-long fingers enchant through melodious hours, <br />Eyes ravished with rapture, celestially panting, what passionate bosoms aflaming with fire!<br /><br />Sarojini Naidu<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/indian-dancers/
