Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar,
Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell?
Whom do you lead on Rapture's roadway, far,
Before you agonise them in farewell?
 
Oh, pale dispensers of my Joys and Pains,
Holding the doors of Heaven and of Hell,
How the hot blood rushed wildly through the veins,
Beneath your touch, until you waved farewell.
 
Pale hands, pink tipped, like Lotus buds that float
On those cool waters where we used to dwell,
I would have rather felt you round my throat,
Crushing out life, than waving me farewell!

One from Gloucestershire, Adela Florence Cory came to India along with her sisters to assist his colonel father in editing the Sind Gazette. Her father was posted in Lahore. But after the death of their father her elder sister Isabella took over the editorship. Her younger sister Annie Sophie wrote novels under the pseudonym of Victoria Cross. Later, she married Colonel Malcolm Hassels Nicolson of the Bombay army. The Garden of Kama appeared in 1901 as a collection of translated and arranged stuffs culled from different sources.

Adela Florence Cory Nicolson used to write under the pseudonym of Laurence Hope and also used Violet Nicolson. Noted for Sufiana bearings upon her poetry, oriental flavor, she is drawn to the Indian landscape. But misfortune left her not behind. She committed suicide after the death of her husband in 1904.

Kashmiri Song, how will be the song of Kashmir? Do the gardens captivate and enchant us similarly to what we think? As the garden looks draped in colourful scenery and green foliage so should it appear our sweetened memories.

Pale hands, where do you lie in which held it so warmly, shook it with sympathy, affection and bonding? Where is that warmth and vigour gone? Where that hospitality? Have you left and gone away? Have you turned to someone else? She longs for that affection which is lasting and is durable for some more time. My love, I remember you by being with the Shalimar.

Where is the Shalimar? The Shalimar is in the heart.

But who is it who gives joy and sorrows? All the joys and sorrows emanate from Him, the Almighty. What to say about the spells of joy and sorrow? We do not know which to afflict it when? One who has keys to  open the doors of Heaven and Hell knows it best.

Blood ran it hot when there was warmth, when attraction seemed to be drawing closer.

We do not know why she has named it Kashmiri Song. Does it tell of the visit to the Shalimar Gardens?

Like the lotus buds floating on the cool waters of the pool or the lake, drifted we and seemed to dwell upon. But rather than bidding farewell, she wants the warmth of love and bonding.

If the flowers themselves seem to be wilting or the garden takes on a deserted look, how will it be the flowers of love? It is love which nourishes and nurtures.

Kashmiri love, how will it look when it blooms? How will the flowers decorate the garden of love and beauty, fancy and imagination? Our heart is very tender just like a delicate flower and it needs our care and caressing. How the weather and climate too? How the gardener too?