Translated from the Sanskrit by Louis Hunt
Bhartrihari (also spelled Bhartṛhari; circa 4th–5th centuries CE) was an Indian poet writing in Sanskrit about whom nothing certain is known. Some traditional sources suggest he was a Buddhist monk, others that he was a king who abandoned his throne for the life of a renunciant. Some have suggested that the poet Bhartrihari is the same as the Bhartrihari who wrote the Vakyapadiya, a work on the philosophy of language. The editor of the critical edition of the poems, D. D. Kosambi, called Bhartrihari, on the basis of a perhaps overly literal reading of the poems, “a hungry Brahmin in distress.” The truth is that Bhartrihari is known to us only through the medium of his poetry. He is the author of the Shatakatraya (The Three Hundreds), a collection of three thematically focused “centuries” of epigrammatic verses treating worldly wisdom, erotic love and renunciation respectively. Some of the poems traditionally ascribed to Bhartrihari may be later accretions but the core of the Shatakatraya reveals a poet with perhaps the most individual voice in Sanskrit literature.
The numbers in parentheses refer to the poem numbers in the critical edition of D. D. Kosambi, The Epigrams Attributed to Bhartrihari.
Each translation is followed by the original Sanskrit.
This dwelling place of passion,
source of all confusion,
where suffering knows a hundred hells
and knowledge dims as clouds obscure the moon,
home of the love-god’s favored friend,
constant litany of manifest vice—
Where else can one find such useless stuff
if not in youth’s ramshackle house? (106)
रागस्यागारमेकं नरकशतमहादुःखसंप्राप्तिहेतुर्
मोहस्योत्पत्तिबीजं जलधरपटलं ज्ञानताराधिपस्य।
कन्दर्पस्यैकमित्रं प्रकटितविविधस्पष्टदोषप्रबन्धं
लोकेऽस्मिन् न ह्यनर्थव्रजकुसुमवनं यौवनादन्यदस्ति ॥१०६॥
An ignorant man is easily pleased,
a learned man more easily still,
but not even Brahma can satisfy
a man with only a scrap of knowledge. (4)
बोद्धारो मत्सरग्नस्ताः प्रभवः स्मयदूषिताः।
अबोधोपहताश् चान्ये जीर्णमङ्गे सुभाषितम् ॥४॥
Our parents have long since died,
even our friends are only memories.
Every day brings us closer to death—
trees clinging to a crumbling riverbank. (170)
वयं येभ्यो जाताश् चिरपरिगता एव खलु ते
समं यैः संवृद्धाः स्मृतिविषयतां तेऽपि गमिताः।
इदानीमेते स्मः प्रतिदिवसमासन्नपतना
गतास् तुल्यावस्थां सिकतिलनदीतीरतरुभिः ॥१७०॥
The dress of a girl aflame with desire,
the scent of jasmine blossoming in the air,
the splendid arch of her heavy, full breasts—
who is not enraptured in this season of rain? (141)
तरुणीवेषा दीपितकामा विकसितजातीपुष्पसुगन्धिः।
उन्नतपीनपयोधरभारा प्रावृट् तनुते कस्य न हर्षम् ॥१४१॥
Flirtatiousness is the natural charm of women,
but it blooms only in the hearts of foolish men.
The ardent blush of the lotus is also nature.
A bee hovers entranced above its blossom. (82)
लीलावतीनां सहजा विलासास् त एव मूदस्य हृदि स्फुरन्ति।
रागो नलिन्या हि निसर्गसिद्धस् तत्र भ्रमत्येव मुधा षडङ्घ्रिः ॥८२॥
The wise man should strive for his soul’s perfection
while his body is still whole and unafflicted,
his senses not yet dimmed nor his powers diminished.
Why bother to dig a well when your house has burned to ashes? (194)
यावत् स्वस्थमिदं शरीरमरुजं यावज्जरा दूरतो
यावच् चेन्द्रियशक्तिरप्रतिहता यावत् क्षयो नायुष:।
आत्मश्रेयसि तावदेव विदुषा कार्यः प्रयत्नो महान्
आदीप्ते भवने तु कूपखननं प्रत्युद्यम: कीदृश: ॥१९४॥
We never learned the tempered wisdom
required to rout the learned rabble.
Never split with swords the elephant’s head,
or stormed the heavens with our fame.
Never tasted under the cresting moon
the sweet flesh of a young girl’s lips.
Our fruitless youth is flickering out,
a dimming light in an empty house. (195)
नाभ्यस्ता भुवि वादिवृन्ददमनी विद्या विनीतोचिता
खड्गाग्रै: करिकुम्भपीठदलनैनार्कं न नीतं यश:।
कान्ताकोमलपल्लवाधररस: पीतो न चन्द्रोदये
तारुण्यं गतमेव निशष्फलमहो शून्यालये दीपवत् ॥१९५॥
The forest with its terrors becomes a towering city
and every stranger an intimate companion,
the earth itself pours forth its treasured wealth
for the man whose good deeds are unsurpassed. (47)
भीमं वनं भवति तस्य पुरं प्रधानं
सर्वो जनः खजनतामुपयाति तस्य।
कृत्स्ना च भूर्भबति सन्निधिरत्नपूर्णा
यस्यास्ति पूर्वसुकृतं विपुलं नरस्य ॥४७॥
Louis Hunt taught political theory at James Madison College, Michigan State University. He has published original poems as well as translations from Sanskrit in a variety of print and online journals including Snakeskin, Metamorphoses, The Brazen Head, Interpret, The High Window, New Verse Review and Nimrod. He is currently working on a volume of translations from the Sanskrit of Kalidasa, Bhartrihari and Nilakantha Dikshita. X: @LouisHu03664133
Featured photo from Wellcome Collection
