想念一位贴诗歌的朋友，贴几首“印度情诗”

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Let the earth of my body be mixed with the earth
my beloved walks on.
Let the fire of my body be the brightness
in the mirror that reflects his face.
Let the water of my body join the waters
of the lotus pool he bathes in.
Let the breath of my body be air
lapping his tired limbs.
Let me be sky, and moving through me
that cloud-dark Shyama, my beloved.

让我体中的土质去融合
我之心爱脚下的土壤
让我身内的火焰变成镜中之光
镜里映出他的面庞
让我体内的水溶进莲花的池塘
我的心爱沐浴在荷旁
让我身中的呼吸化成气流
轻拍着他倦怠的双腿与臂膀
让我成为天空，于是他穿越我
那乌云般的夏玛神，我日夜的梦想

How can I describe his relentless flute,
which pulls virtuous women from their homes
and drags them by their hair to Shyama
as thirst and hunger pull the doe to the snare?
Chaste ladies forget their lords,
wise men forget their wisdom,
and clinging vines shake loose from their trees,
hearing that music.
Then how shall a simple dairymaid withstand its call?

怎样才能描绘你魅惑的笛音？
贤德的女子被它牵动着身心，
离开家门奔向你，
如同饥渴的小鹿无法抵御饵物的诱引。
听着那乐音，
贞洁的女人把郎君忘得精光，
智慧的男人也变得头脑空荡，
缠树的青藤震惊地松开了臂腕--
可不是，单纯的挤奶姑娘
又怎能抗拒它的召引？


Poetry Of Krishna

With the last of my garments
shame dropped from me, fluttered
to earth and lay discarded at my feet.
My lover's body became
the only covering I needed.
with bent head he gazed at the lamp
like a bee who desires the honey of a closed lotus.
The Mind-stealing One, like the chataka bird,
is wanton he misses no chance
to gratify his thirst: I was to him
a pool of rain drops.
Now shame retturns
as I remember. My heart trembles,
recalling his treachery.

最后一层衣裳颤抖着飘落了
在我的脚下，带走了最后的羞怯耻廉，
我的眼睛里只有你，我的爱人
呵我只要你的身体裹缠。
他俯首对着灯双目闪光
像蜜蜂急切啄尽荷花蕊里的甜浆。
他是chataka之鸟，挑起热情，偷走了我的魂魄，
每一寸光阴都是欢乐。
我是那迅疾的雨滴涨满池塘，令他渴饮不断。
而今当我重新记起，羞耻返回心间，
我的心抖擞着，数落起他的诱骗。

Krishna speaks to his beloved:

My moon-faced one, I am waiting
to make our bed ready,
to gather lotus petals-
your body will press them, hidden from even friendly eyes...
Come, the sweet breeze from the sandalwoods
censes our trysting place...(censes: senses?)

我美丽的月亮，我一直在等待
快来，让我们用新鲜的荷花
把我们床铺装扮洒满
你隐藏在所有热切的目光之后的身体
会抚平，那些花瓣
来吧，从檀香林吹来的柔美和风
已轻盈掠过我们的幽会地点

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忘记说了，这几首诗当时是两三个人一起译的，包括这位女友。