You haven't weighed the consequences for your love, nor have you any regard for your friends. Why are you making such a jealous fuss now, prude, when it's too late? With your own hands You've brought down upon yourself these coals, their blazing points of flame as bright as Doomsday Fire. So enough now of your crying in the wilderness. You've erased the tracery on your cheek by covering it with your palm. Your sighs have kissed away the juice of your lower lip, tasty as nectar and at every instant, the tear that's stuck in your throat is making your sloping breasts tremble. Unkind girl, anger has become your lover, not I.
Amaru (c. seventh century A.D.), Kashmirian king, compiler, author of some of the poems in the anthology which bears his name. translated from the Amaruataka by Martha Ann Selby, vs. 81, Motilal Banarsidass (1983).
A cultural note: The "tracery" on the woman's cheek refers to ornamental lines drawn on her face with a paste made of powdered sandalwood.