759. Untitled, by Vidya

Fate is a cruel
and proficient potter,
my friend. Forcibly
spinning the wheel
of anxiety, he lifts misfortune
like a cutting tool. Now
having kneaded my heart
like a lump of clay,
he lays it on his
wheel and gives a spin.
What he intends to produce
I cannot tell.

(trans Andrew Schelling)

Source: Dropping the Bow: Poems of Ancient India

777. Untitled, by Bhavabhuti

Critics scoff
at my work
and declare their contempt—
no doubt they've got
their own little wisdom.
I write nothing for them.
But because time is
endless and our planet
vast, I write these
poems for a person
who will one day be born
with my sort of heart.

(trans Andrew Schelling)

Source: Dropping the Bow: Poems of Ancient India

933. Poem 1.45 from the Sattasai, by Anonymous

Your girlhood
sweeps past like a torrent
days are fast travelers
not a single night's ever returned
And still you
cleave to this untenable
notion
of chastity.

(trans Andrew Schelling)

Source: Columbia, Issue 41