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Poetry by the Masters


(Translated by Andrew Schelling)

I am your slave.
Bind me in tethers, Mira's your slave.
She wakes up at dawn,
sits in the garden,
haunts the pathways of Vrindavan forest
making up balads.
Fever, memory, craving --
birth after birth they trail after me --
I put on my saffron robe,
hoping to see you.
Yogins come to Vrindavan to know oneness,
hermits perform terrible spells,
holy men come to sing gospels --
but Mira is deeper, Lord,
and more secret.
She waits with a ruined heart every night
by the river
just for a glimpse

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Please send suggestions of Classic poems with the same theme to Ambrosio
Thank you, gem, for suggesting "Sonnet LVII," "A Former Life," "A Match," and "Another."
Thank you Mistress Constance for suggesting "Because," "Invictus," and "The Master"


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