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A Poem by Sarojini Naidu : Indian Dancer

Saojini Naidu-3

Indian Dancer

EYES ravished with rapture, celestially panting, what passionate bosoms aflaming with
fire
Drink deep of the hush of the hyacinth heavens that glimmer around them in fountains
of light;
O wild and entrancing the strain of keen music that cleaveth the stars like a wail of
desire,
And beautiful dancers with houri-like faces bewitch the voluptuous watches of night.
The scents of red roses and sandalwood flutter and die in the maze of their
gem-tangled hair,
And smiles are entwining like magical serpents the poppies of lips that are
opiate-sweet;
Their glittering garments of purple are burning like tremulous dawns in the quivering
air,
And exquisite, subtle and slow are the tinkle and tread of their rhythmical,
slumber-soft feet.
Now silent, now singing and swaying and swinging, like blossoms that bend to the
breezes or showers,
Now wantonly winding, they flash, now they falter, and, lingering, languish in radiant
choir;
Their jewel-girt arms and warm, wavering, lily-long fingers enchant through melodious
hours,
Eyes ravished with rapture, celestially panting, what passionate bosoms aflaming with
fire!

Sarojini Naidu

sarojini naidu an introduction to her life & work

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