Classic Poem

O I saw witchcraft tonight
in the region of Braj.
A milking girl going her rounds,
a pot on her head,
came face to face with the Dark One.
My friend, she is babbling,
can no longer say "buttermilk."
- Come get the Dark One, the Dark One!
A pot full of Shyam! -
In the overgrown lanes
of Vrindavan forest
the Enchanter of Hearts fixed his
eye on this girl,
then departed.
Mira's lord is hot, lovely
and raven -
tonight she saw witchcraft
at Braj.

[Translated by Robert Bly]