When the Leaves Come Out/The Slave, the Nautch Girl and the Cobra
THE SLAVE, THE NAUTCH GIRL
AND THE COBRA
From the Spanish
Leap! spring! writhing thing!
This hooded serpent crawls
Rhythmic at my command.
Blaze burn!
Great King!
Now silent evening falls
Over the pallid sand,
The pallid sand . . .
Come, wild one, twist and turn,
Heed that my grace you earn,
Haste that thy hate I learn,
To madness fanned!
Bend! swing! laughing, sing!
Madder the music make—
Whirl like the wind and sway . . . !
More fleet . . . !
Great King,
See how my heart will break,
Love her none other may.
None other may!
Jeweled her tinkling feet,
Red are her lips and sweet,
Breasts where her girdles meet
White as the moon are they . . .
O, white are they!
Writhe! sting! deadly thing!
Quick was his hooded head . . .
Self slain in anguish grand.
Ah! see!
Great King,
Behold him dead and still—
Dead on the pallid sand . . .
..........
What with the fire in me,
Slave I can never be;
See me, then, dead or free
By my own hand!