A little bird high on the branches swinging,
High up and happy in the sun above,
Is looking down upon Catalinota,
Catalinota who lies dead of love.

A gallant youth far off upon the mountains
Hears the chimes ring and wonders: " Can it be
That the bells toll for my Catalinota,
Catalinota, dead for love of me? "

When he is standing high up on the hill-top,
Down there below he sees the torches' light:
" If that should be the torches in procession,
A-carrying her to burial to-night!

A lifetime 'tis that in Love's quest Each day I hither, thither fare,
That still to those of good repute I lift imploring hands in prayer.

So that my day I may not pass Without my love-enkindling moon,
Snares in the way I've set and clapped A bird (my heart) within the snare.

So haply tidings I may gain Of yonder cypress-straight one's shade,
Love's clamour, on all sides, I launch At every goodly-gaited fair.

I know that those blood-raining sighs I heave at eventide and dawn
Affliction to an end will bring And fruit of happy case will bear.

Now my life has born fair fruit, because my Love has slept beside me.
Not for one second does he leave me, to my heart the Lord is dear.
He accepts my love each moment, and He knows that I am true.
My soul has spread her nuptial bed by the bank of the Tribeni.
Blessed am I, there will I abide in the company of Raghubir.
There will I bring knowledge, devotion, and will receive the Guru's rules.
To this world I return no more, but sing the song of the Unconditioned.
Bulla the mortal has builded him a house, there will he light a lamp.

A girl am I and gladly do rejoice in the new season of the year, thanks be to Love and to my happy thoughts.
Through the green meadows do I go to see the yellow flowers and white and red, the roses on their thorns and the white flowers-deluce; and I go likening them to the face of him who loving me hath captured me, even as she that doth desire naught else save her delight.

The fragrance of love I've scented, The lightning of union see;
Come, breath of the Northland zephyr; I die for the scent of thee.

Guide of the Loved One's camels, Stand and unload; for lo!
Patience, for love and longing, Hath all forsaken me.

Forbear, o my heart, complaining Of separation's night,
In thanks that the day of union Hath from the screen won free.

Since that the Friend excusement Desireth and accord,
One of the watcher's noyance Can unregardful be.

Come, for with sevenfold tissues, The eye's rose-coloured wede,

Love is guide enough to farers in Love's road;
Tears the means I made of finding her abode.

How shall she regard the billows of our tears,
She, whose bark o'er bloody oceans ever rode?

This my ill-repute free-willing is not: He
Caused me stray in Love, the pathway me who showed.

Or the fire of fair ones' faces shun or pass
Uncomplaining o'er the flames, on Abram's mode.

Either look to miss thy purpose, or thy foot,
Save with one to guide thee, set not in this road.

Long I've pondered o'er this couplet, that whilere

The Lord is found in love alone.
Not in knowledge, nor meditation: not in deed, nor caste, nor ordinance.
He is not in Mahabharat nor Ramayana: nor Manu-Smriti nor Vedas.
Not in talking or in wrangles; nor in the differences of faiths.
Not in temples nor in worship: nor in the sound of temple bells.
O Hari Chand, the Lord is swinging bound by the bond of love alone.

A sojourn of peace and safety, Sheer wine and a loving friend,
Now glory to God for favour, If Fortune to thee these send!

The world and its need and its fashions Are nothing in nothing all;
Nay, thousands of times this saying For truth have I proved and kenned.

Go, find thee a place of safety And reckon time's plunder gain;
For highwaymen lie in ambush For all in Life's way that wend.

Alas and alack that I knew not Till now that the one belov'd,
The Loved One, the sole elixir Of happiness is in the end!

So but of fortune backed I be, Hand on the Loved One's skirt I'll lay:
An if I win it, what delight! Yea, and what honour, if she slay!

Vantage of pity hath from none Gotten this hopeful heart of mine,
Albe my speech my tale of woes Unto all quarters doth convey.

Idols with hearts of stone how long Shall I with love and fondness tend?
Children unnatural, of the sire, Fondly that reared them, think not they.

Door of deliverance none for me Is there from that thine eyebrow's curve:

All compact of grace and beauty Is my loved one's moonlike face;
Love and faith, o Lord, vouchsafe her; For of these she hath no trace.

My heart-ravisher a child is; But she will some day in sport
Slay me abject and the canon Hold her guiltless of the case.

Best it were from her that straitly I my heart should guard; for she
Good and bad not yet hath proven, Knoweth worthy not from base.

I a fourteen-year-old idol Have, a fair one, slim and sweet,
Whose the full moon ring-in-ear is, Slave and bondman of her grace.