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That which spreads sweetness without cause and charms like poetry is the essence of Saraswati—recognized only by sensitive poets.
The fire of anger in a good man and a wicked one is different—love can quench the former, but the latter’s rage grows even when resisted.
O Saraswati! Your treasure of knowledge is unique—it grows with spending and decreases when hoarded.
O slender one! You showed me a new path—while meditating on union, attachment alone grows.
Leave me, O beloved, enchanted by appearances! You've mistaken a poison tree for sandalwood due to illusion.
When discovering a new land, being crowned, or giving birth to a son, one attains release from bondage.
The bees, humming and joyful, arrived at the place scented with an unparalleled sweetness.
She desired an urgent meeting, and upon seeing her beauty, even the king was conquered by her mere glances.
The unprecedented serpent of sarcasm, residing in a wicked mouth, bites one and poisons another.
Supreme poetry, dwelling on the highest truths, brings unprecedented delight and conquers delusion.
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