This week, our featured book is Erotic Poems from the Sanskrit: An Anthology, edited and translated by R. Parthasarathy. Today we’re featuring some excerpts from the book–poems fit for the reserved and the brokenhearted. Enjoy!


My face is etched in sorrow;
my heart’s uprooted; I am sleepless
and worn out weeping day and night
from not seeing my lover’s face;
my body’s wasted away.
Contrite, he had groveled at my feet,
yet I had spurned him.
Friends, were you looking out for me
when I exploded at him in anger?




No, she didn’t slam the door in his face
nor turn away from him.
Not a harsh word crossed her lips.
Her gaze unwavering, eyelashes still,
she looked at her husband
as though he were an ordinary man.




I wear no bracelet,
clear as the rays of the autumn moon.
I haven’t drunk from the lips
of a shy, tender bride,
nor have I won, by sword or pen,
fame in Indra’s world.
Instead I’ve wasted my time
in ramshackle schools,
teaching impudent, spiteful students.




With a curse, the woman threw her lover out,
despite his groveling at her feet.
But when he began to walk out of the room,
she ran to stop him, with head bowed
and the knot of her skirt in her palms.
Strange are the ways of love.




The moment young women notice
the hair on a man’s head has turned white—
the flag of his surrender to old age—
they avoid him from afar
as they would the outcastes’ well,
branded with a pile of bones.


Remember to enter our book giveaway by Friday at 1 PM for a chance to win a free copy!


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