Translations of Shakuntala and Other Works. Kalidasa

(smiling). To tell the truth, madam,

      Until the wise are satisfied,

       I cannot feel that skill is shown;

       The best-trained mind requires support,

       And does not trust itself alone.

      Actress. True. What shall we do first?

      Director. First, you must sing something to please the ears of the audience.

      Actress. What season of the year shall I sing about?

      Director. Why, sing about the pleasant summer which has just begun. For at this time of year

      A mid-day plunge will temper heat;

       The breeze is rich with forest flowers;

       To slumber in the shade is sweet;

       And charming are the twilight hours.

      Actress (sings).

      The siris-blossoms fair,

       With pollen laden,

       Are plucked to deck her hair

       By many a maiden,

       But gently; flowers like these

       Are kissed by eager bees.

      Director. Well done! The whole theatre is captivated by your song, and sits as if painted. What play shall we give them to keep their good-will?

      Actress. Why, you just told me we were to give a new play called Shakuntala and the ring.

      Director. Thank you for reminding me. For the moment I had quite forgotten.

      Your charming song had carried me away

       As the deer enticed the hero of our play.

      (Exeunt ambo.)

       ACT I THE HUNT

      (Enter, in a chariot, pursuing a deer, KING DUSHYANTA, bow and arrow in hand; and a charioteer.)

      Charioteer (Looking at the king and the deer). Your Majesty,

      I see you hunt the spotted deer

       With shafts to end his race,

       As though God Shiva should appear

       In his immortal chase.

      King. Charioteer, the deer has led us a long chase. And even now

      His neck in beauty bends

       As backward looks he sends

       At my pursuing car

       That threatens death from far.

       Fear shrinks to half the body small;

       See how he fears the arrow's fall!

      The path he takes is strewed

       With blades of grass half-chewed

       From jaws wide with the stress

       Of fevered weariness.

       He leaps so often and so high,

       He does not seem to run, but fly.

      (In surprise.) Pursue as I may, I can hardly keep him in sight.

      Charioteer. Your Majesty, I have been holding the horses back because the ground was rough. This checked us and gave the deer a lead. Now we are on level ground, and you will easily overtake him.

      King. Then let the reins hang loose.

      Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He counterfeits rapid motion.) Look, your Majesty!

      The lines hang loose; the steeds unreined

       Dart forward with a will.

       Their ears are pricked; their necks are strained;

       Their plumes lie straight and still.

       They leave the rising dust behind;

       They seem to float upon the wind.

      King (joyfully). See! The horses are gaining on the deer.

      As onward and onward the chariot flies,

       The small flashes large to my dizzy eyes.

       What is cleft in twain, seems to blur and mate;

       What is crooked in nature, seems to be straight.

       Things at my side in an instant appear

       Distant, and things in the distance, near.

      A voice behind the scenes. O King, this deer belongs to the hermitage, and must not be killed.

      Charioteer (listening and looking). Your Majesty, here are two hermits, come to save the deer at the moment when your arrow was about to fall.

      King (hastily). Stop the chariot.

      Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He does so. Enter a hermit with his pupil.)

      Hermit (lifting his hand). O King, this deer belongs to the hermitage.

      Why should his tender form expire,

       As blossoms perish in the fire?

       How could that gentle life endure

       The deadly arrow, sharp and sure?

      Restore your arrow to the quiver;

       To you were weapons lent

       The broken-hearted to deliver,

       Not strike the innocent.

      King (bowing low). It is done. (He does so.)

      Hermit (joyfully). A deed worthy of you, scion of Puru's race, and shining example of kings. May you beget a son to rule earth and heaven.

      King (bowing low). I am thankful for a Brahman's blessing.

      The two hermits. O King, we are on our way to gather firewood. Here, along the bank of the Malini, you may see the hermitage of Father Kanva, over which Shakuntala presides, so to speak, as guardian deity. Unless other deities prevent, pray enter here and receive a welcome. Besides,

      Beholding pious hermit-rites

       Preserved from fearful harm,

       Perceive the profit of the scars

       On your protecting arm.

      King. Is the hermit father there?

      The two hermits. No, he has left his daughter to welcome guests, and has just gone to Somatirtha, to avert an evil fate that threatens her.

      King. Well, I will see her. She shall feel my devotion, and report it to the sage.

      The two hermits. Then we will go on our way. (Exit hermit with pupil.)

      King. Charioteer, drive on. A sight of the pious hermitage will purify us.

      Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He counterfeits motion again.)

      King (looking about). One would know, without being told, that this is the precinct of a pious grove.

      Charioteer. How so?

      King. Do you not see? Why, here

      Are rice-grains, dropped from bills of parrot chicks

       Beneath the trees; and pounding-stones where sticks

       A little almond-oil; and trustful deer

       That do not run away as we draw near;

       And river-paths that are besprinkled yet

       From trickling hermit-garments, clean and wet.

      Besides,