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SUMMARY
89
the slander that sticks to you is so huge as it cannot be contained even by the three worlds. For, you become fourfold when there is misery, but shrink down when there is happiness' (156).
Autumn.
Bewailing thus and singing songs and reciting Prakrit poems, I somehow reached the end of the rainy season. The nights that become lovely owing to the loved one's wooing were like a saw to me (157). I spent them keeping awake and supporting life with the hope of my husband's arrival. Leaving the bed early and cherishing the memory of my loved one I looked towards the South and the star Canopus was spotted. At once I knew that the rains had passed. And still my husband had not returned! (158-159). Cranes disappeared from the sky. Beautiful constellations could now be seen at night. Snakes went underground. Clear moonlight streamed at night (160). The lake-water was adorned with lotuses. Rivers were full of ripples. Lakes now regained beauty which they had lost in summer (161). Swans drank honey from the lotuses and chirped sweetly. The Satapatris filled up the world with their luxuriant growth. The streamlets flowed again towards the main water-basin (162). Shores of lakes looked charming due to the conch-white Kāśa grass and rows of birds (163). One's reflection could be seen in the limpid water. I could not bear the cry of Krauñcas and at the arrival of the swans I felt myself unable to carry on existencedying (164). With the reducing waters, I also got reduced. With the glowing fire-flies my body also glowed with heat (?). 'O cranes, your shrill notes remind me of my long-standing misery. You cruel ones, stop your cries, which make the ladies in separation dejected'. Thus I addressed each of them patheti cally, but nobody steadied me even for a while (165-166).
Those ladies whose husbands are at home, put on ornaments and variegated garments and they dance Rasas with them in the streets (167). Making a fine Tilaka mark on the fore-head, besmearing the body with saffron and sandal-paste, moving with the sport-case in hand and singing charming, divine melodies, these ladies devoutly burn incense in their cowsheds and stables. Seeing this I was downcast, as my hope was frustrated (168-169). Then I beheld the directions putting on 12 सं. रा.
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