Though you would conceal (your feelings),
your painted eyes would not, for, transgressing (their bounds), they tell (me) something.
Unusually great is the female simplicity of your maid
whose beauty fills my eyes and whose shoulders resemble the bamboo.
There is something that is implied in the beauty of this woman,
like the thread that is visible in a garland of gems.
There is something in the unmatured smile of this maid
like the fragrance that is contained in an unblossomed bud.
The well-meant departure of her whose bangles are tight-fitting
contains a remedy that can cure my great sorrow.
The embrace that fills me with comfort and gladness is capable of enduring
(my former) sorrow and meditating on his want of love.
My bracelets have understood before me the (mental)
separation of him who rules the cool seashore.
It was but yesterday my lover departed (from me);
and it is seven days since my complexion turned sallow.
She looked at her bracelets, her tender shoulders,
and her feet; this was what she did there (significantly).
To express their love-sickness by their eyes and
resort to begging bespeaks more than ordinary female excellence.
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