And I was dark as you.
Long haired. Even beautiful.
And my pitiful husbands
Five men
Five pitiless kings.
What did they know? What
did they care?
          ichchanti dharmah ichchanti mokshah te.
Fled away to the mountains,
No farewells, not even a word.
As if never had they lain with me,
Never fed upon my rage,
My fondnesses, my tired body,
Night after long night in my
Chambers,
Taking turns,
Leaving their fine shoes upon my
Doorstep
For all to see.
         atra purushaani naagachchanti, tyavam api
         vasasi doore.
Fallen at the foothills
         virahey
With no fire, no men, no sons,
My clothes come loose, my hair
Unoiled and ungathered.