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Many who spent life gossiping are now gone to Yama’s realm—yet we still waste time in worldly talk, deluded by desires.
Embraces of beloved women relieve deep emotional pain like moonlight over Himalayas soothes; the power of love and intimacy shines.
Your form, adorned not with ornaments but deep natural grace, paralyzes the viewer with intense thought and awe—such is your unmatched beauty.
Just like other musical notes accompany the chief one, kings support the main ruler; strength lies in harmony and subordination.
Just a drop of wine can ruin virtue; likewise, one improper word can destroy a disciple’s path—it shows the fragility of virtue.
Mind, speech, and actions of a great donor are like pure flowing streams of gold, graceful and luminous—symbol of noble generosity.
His body, hardened by constant archery and toil, bears no sign of pain—like a mountain beast in battle, he hides all fatigue.
A grieving maiden chants your name like a japa with tear-soaked beads—repetition born of sorrow and longing.
Her eyes weeping all night have blurred the lines of her palm-leaf letters—this sight melts hearts.
Noble people always immersed in helping others often speak sharp words—but even those harsh lines become healing like medicine.
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