MY LORD, your brother’s lovesickness is becoming impossible: ever since he saw Valli, at the archery contest, he’s being most unreasonable. He refuses food, then says he’s hungry and wants to go pick figs on her hill. He claims hot water’s making him weak and wakes at dawn to go bathe in the hill stream. And now he wants grass mats, no doubt woven with grass from her hill, because suddenly ‘soft mattresses are bad for a warrior’s body.’ * My Lord, your brother’s lovesickness is becoming impossible. It’s days since he came to the poets’ assembly and you know it’s the spring festival and poets have come from all over, with a whole year’s worth of poems they have waited to have him read and approve. And all he says is, ‘I can’t bear poetry now: tell them to come back next year.’ * My Lord, your brother’s lovesickness is becoming impossible. Three days ago, he screamed at the rooster for breaking a dream in which, following her eyes, he was just about to see what she was looking at. What am I to say to your mother when she asks why no one’s waking on time: the rooster you see, flew off in a huff and hasn’t been seen since. [imgcenter]
My Lord, your brother’s lovesickness is becoming impossible: ever since he saw Valli, at the archery contest, he’s being most unreasonable. He refuses food, then says he’s hungry and wants to go pick figs on her hill. He claims hot water’s making him weak and wakes at dawn to go bathe in the hill stream. And now he wants grass mats, no doubt woven with grass from her hill, because suddenly ‘soft mattresses are bad for a warrior’s body.’
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