Vidyapati

I recently discovered Vidyapati, 14th century legendary Maithali and Sanskrit poet. While reading a poetry anthology I was captivated by the imagery of a poem describing the inner feelings of an ageing woman lamenting the receding of her physical beauty, and the incidental feelings caused by realisation of transience of physical charm. The source of inspiration for the poem was a poem of Vidyapati. A little research on the Net led me to this colossal, hiding in the plain sight, poet abandoned to be discovered through the eye of foreigner in English translation.  When I read a few of his love poems, they oozed with so much passion and sensuality, I knew that likes of Neruda were merely his minions.

(it may sound bit brash to some. please remember that some of the brashness, I suspect, in expressing sensuality has been ‘added in translation’ due to directness of English words in expressing such feeling, in Hindi, Maithali, or perhaps even in Sanskrit, language itself helps you express such feeling more obliquely; then there are lot of colloquial expressions which are untranslatable without magnifying their coarseness manifold to our ears. )

Few example:

Poem 1.

Cosmetics do no good:
no shadow, rouge, mascara, lipstick-
nothing helps.
however artfully I comb my hair,
embellishing my throat and wrist with jewels,
It is no use- there is no
semblance of the beautiful young girl
I was
And long for still.
My loveliness is past.
And no one could be more aware than I am
that coquettishness at this age
only renders me ridiculous.
I know it. Nonetheless,
I primp myself before the mirror
like an infatuated school girl
fussing over every detail,
practicing whatever subtlety
may please him.
I cannot help myself.
The God of passion has his will of me
and I am tossed about
between humiliation & desire,
rectitude  & lust,
disintegration & renewal,
ruin & salvation.

( translation by : Steve Kowit)

Poem 2.

For heaven's sake, listen, listen, O my darling:
Do not dart your cruel, angry glances at me,
For I swear by the lovely pitchers of your breasts,
And by your golden, glittering, snake-like necklace:
If ever on earth I dare touch anyone except you,
Let your necklace turn into a real snake, and bite me;
And if ever my promise and words prove false,
Chastise me, O darling, in the way you want to.
But, now, don't hesitate to take me in your arms,
Bind, bind my thirsty body with yours; bruise me
With your thighs, and bite, bite me with your teeth.
Let your fingernails dig deep, deep into my skin!
Strangle me, for heaven's sake, with your breasts,
And lock me in the prison of your body forever!

Poem 3.

All my inhibition left me in a flash,
When he robbed me of my clothes,
But his body became my new dress.
Like a bee hovering on a lotus leaf
He was there in my night, on me!

True, the god of love never hesitates!
He is free and determined like a bird
Winging toward the clouds it loves.
Yet I remember the mad tricks he played,
My heart restlessly burning with desire
Was yet filled with fear!

poem 4.

Oh friend, I cannot tell you
Whether he was near or far, real or a dream.
Like a vine of lightning,
As I chained the dark one,
I felt a river flooding in my heart.
Like a shining moon,
I devoured that liquid face.
I felt stars shooting around me.
The sky fell with my dress,
leaving my ravished breasts.
I was rocking like the earth.
In my storming breath
I could hear my ankle-bells,
sounding like bees.
Drowned in the last waters of dissolution,
I knew that this was not the end.

Says Vidyapati:
How can I possibly believe such nonsense?