How fair is youth that flies so fast! Then be happy, ye who may; what's to come is still unsure.
Here are Bacchus and his lady, both so fair and both in love; and, since time is swift and cheating, in delight they dwell together. Joyous are these Nymphs and others! Then be happy, ye who may; what's to come is still unsure.
These laughing youthful Satyrs, in the woodlands and mountains, spy upon the lurking-places of the Nymphs whom they adore! Warm with Bacchus now they dance and leap! Then be happy, ye who may; what's to come is still unsure.

O graceful balcony, where now is she that with her gleam was wont to lighten thee? Well do I perceive thy loss not grieves thee, and yet thou shouldst lament with me.
For, lacking all her beauty, thou are naught! Drooping the flowers and dry the violets! Lacking her, day has no sun, the night no stars for me.
Yet I remember that I saw thee decked, among white marbles and the coloured flowers, with one both white and flower-like.
Love stood then upon thy terraces but now abandons thee to grief and solitude because he dwells beside that gentle one.

God! how good it is to see her, so gracious, good and fair! Everyone is ready to praise her for the great gifts that are in her.
Who could ever be weary of her? Her beauty is a new thing every day. God! how good it is to see her, so gracious, good and fair!
On this side and beyond the sea there is no lady and no maiden so perfect in all gifts as she; to think of her is like a vision. God! how good it is to see her!

The soul that wins release while yet in life, has safely passed over the world-ocean.
To them who with understanding chanted the true name, to them is known the choicest of all perfumes.
Even Danuja and Danava by the way of knowledge have found delight in the path of love.
By ordering his life he can remove the mire of Kali Juga, and Sants will sing his praise.
Upon the loved one fix your thoughts, who is all blessing and all blessed.
As moon-light in winter (unregarded) so in this life sing your praise.

The blind man asks me of the sunshine. To what can one compare it for him?
There is the light in all its splendour: it has no colour yet it colours all.

The blind collect and ask for proofs: but without sight no vision can they have.
O Yari, when there is no faith within, who can explain by mere imparted lore?

ELEGY

O Maiya, arise amidst the keeners and wail for him
That built for himself renown, a man that was loved and feared!
And cry unto God, " Oh, take not Arbad afar from us, "
And shatter thy grief-riven heart with mention of his dear name.
A stout pillar to his folk: they leaned on him: then came doom,
And one day they marked for him a place in the earth to lie.

O man, within your heart consider, what sin has caused you to take body,
Tis a plaything made of earth, to play with: the pot is one, though it bears many names.

No grain of faith lodged in his heart: astray in errors man lives perversely.
Test the ornament, refine it: perfect and pure the gold is there.

My love is hidden in a little garden where roses and lilies-of-the-valley bloom, likewise the hollyhock.
My little garden is most pleasant and decked with every flower and is guarded by a lover as well by night as day.
Alas! there is no sweeter thing than this gentle nightingale who in the morning sings so clear; when she is tired she doth repose.
The other day I watched her pluck the violets in a green field, and she seemed to me so comely and of such perfect beauty.
A little while I gazed at her: she was as white as milk, and gentle as a lamb, and red as any rose.

O Dharni, the deluded Brahmans, dwell in the city of delusion.
They pile on their heads a burden of Karma and preach long sermons to other folk.

The power of deeds will bring you to salvation: this, Dharni, they proclaim aloud.
A worldly Brahman is altogether worthless: a Chamar with devotion is better far.

A Brahman that hunts flesh for food, will be swept away in the flood of sin.
O Dharni, if a Sudra be Visnu's devotee, at his feet bow down your head.

A girl am I and gladly do rejoice in the new season of the year, thanks be to Love and to my happy thoughts.
Through the green meadows do I go to see the yellow flowers and white and red, the roses on their thorns and the white flowers-deluce; and I go likening them to the face of him who loving me hath captured me, even as she that doth desire naught else save her delight.