Rumours revive hope; Those that spread them Luckily don't know this. Rumours have gifted me this flowery-eyed belle; The public know not her preciousness. Should I not welcome their rumours Which give that feel of owning whom I own not? Rumours enhance my love which might have Otherwise waned losing its power. Wine delights with every sip. So does love with every disclosure. Our meeting was but for a day, but the outcry is As if a serpent has swallowed the moon. The village gossip manures my love, And my mother's reproaches water it. To suppress love with scandal Is to put fire out with ghee! He who said “fear not” has flared up rumour. Why then should I blush for this outcry? This village gossip is what we desire, For it serves the desire of my lover.