Rādhā’s Lament

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Rādhā’s Lament

A Poem

By winding Yamuna’s banks by a tree
Sat Rādhā, eyes down, resting chin on knee.

Gone were the maidens to their houses
Back to their duty and their spouses.
Sombre Rādhā sits alone and forlorn
Only bitter memories to savour until morn.

Yamuna’s giggling waters mock her mood
And so the sounds of a nearby bird’s brood.
The tender breeze that soothes by chills
Doused her mood and inflamed her ills.

What cause, what maim of childish sense
Yielded within and her trial commence?
Was it a crime for eyes to dwell
On beauty that compels like a spell?

Flute for speech, a feather for crown
This way lay danger, who would’ve known?
This was but a shepherd, a common boy
All prank and mirth, her unstained joy.

He was dearly hers, her personal bard
Surely no king and surely no god!
For who spend hours twirling her locks
Hangs on her every word and then mocks!

Why this burden of an empire to run?
Were there no stars, why steal her personal sun?
Then wafting came sound of a familiar lute, 
And stopped Rādhā’s lament and will to compute.