Classic Poem

Look, she is a living doll. As the fruit of a thousand births, as reward for a thousand austerities, she had favour on us at break of day and came. To welcome her the dawn maiden with swift hands made blossom and bud to flower; when they heard that she would come to earth, the sweet singing birds carolled welcome with dulcet voice; the morning breeze said softly to all men, " There comes to earth a flower from heaven. "
Look, she is a living doll. Three months and six days ago she came to the dwelling of men; and even to-day she is weighed down with incessant sleep. She knows not day and night; tears, joy, love, laughter are all unknown; the maid is without consciousness, without error. Yet her own folk come running to her each moment like bees covetous of honey. When she bursts into laughter, all laugh too. What limitless power is in her little heart!
What a living doll she is! At the fragrance of her body all the world smiles; sephalika and bakul flowers shower down abashed. In her baby babble what music pours forth; in all the world where is its like? When rishis and sages see the moon of heaven shine upon her face, their hearts are moved within them.
Look, she is a living doll. All day long with fascinated, unblinking eyes, I look, yet the sting of unsatisfaction is within me. Love or joy she has taken away, poetry and memory too; she has snatched away my whole heart. Whenever I go anywhere, in a moment I come back and look. In truth she has made me a mechanical doll. Without her the world is empty; vice and virtue I forget. Blessed is thy power, and thy glory incomparable.