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DASARATHI
(Translated from Telugu by N. V. R. SESHAGIRI RAO)

As if into a golden wire thou drawest the lofty mountains,
Hidden are the great secrets of poesy in the edge of thy chisel
that pictures has graven in the caves of Ellora to their delight without limit.

Thou great promoter of sculpture that hast to poetry given shape
Compressed in thy chisel thou hast
the glory of turning common stones into beauties,
On temple tops artistic forms hast thou created
And hast thou built halls of beauty for the nymphs to dance.

Into maidens鈥� billowy bosoms and their charming cheeks,
Into damsels鈥� brows and their darkest tresses
Do hills everywhere turn in fine
Into nymphs beautiful only to form themselves at thy sight,
While nectar into them thou pourest with thy chisel, and life to them thou givest,
Creator art thou, thou sculptor of sculptors!

鈥淲hatever shapes thou commandest us to take
Shall we assume, but O master sculptor, why dost thou beat us into powder?鈥�
Cry the mountains under the hammer-strokes of thy deft hand.

At the touch of hand, do those pillars of stone
Resonate like the steely strings of the been
But tell me, master artist, how thou hast worked thy chisel on stone,
Oh, didst thou for new tune鈥檚 sake infuse heart into the stone?

Oh, what a manly man art thou
This cluster of mounts like butter does melt
And flows even as warm tears are shed
When come into sight thy nimble fingers
That ply the chisel replete with beauty great of thy art.

Changes into statue well-cut even the ugly stone,
Charming like a maiden does it excite love鈥檚 passion,
Lo, appears there a maiden enchanting
in every stone that once was cold and chilling,
What is this if not the magic of thy hand divine?