Two love poems

One about human love, and one about the Sanskrit language.

As I went down the hill along the wall
There was a gate I had leaned at for the view
And had just turned from when I first saw you
As you came up the hill. We met. But all
We did that day was mingle great and small
Footprints in summer dust as if we drew
The figure of our being less than two
But more than one as yet. Your parasol

Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
And all the time we talked you seemed to see
Something down there to smile at in the dust.
(Oh, it was without prejudice to me!)
Afterward I went past what you had passed
Before we met and you what I had passed.

--Robert Frost, "Meeting and Passing"


केयूराणि न भूषयन्ति पुरुषं हारा न चन्द्रोज्ज्वला
न स्नानं न विलेपनं न कुसुमं नालं्कृता मूर्धजाः।
वाण्येका समलंकरोति पुरुषं या संस्कृता धार्यते
क्षीयन्ते खलु भूषणानि सततं वाग्भूषनं भूषनम्।।
--भर्तृहरि

Armbands do not adorn a person, nor necklaces bright as the moon / Nor baths, nor fragrances, nor flowers, nor ornamented hair. / Speech alone adorns a person, when one holds it in a refined (samskrta) form. / Ornaments waste away, of course, but the ornament of speech remains a true ornament.
--Bhartrhari