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Your moon-like face, O beauty, always blossoms with a nectar-like smile that removes sorrow and brings delight.
With sweet jingling waist-bells as a fearless war drum, and hips like rocky platforms, love rolls on like a wild fire.
What doubt is there — her kiss is nectar itself, even surpassing honey or mango nectar — only the wise in flavor may judge!
Moon is moon, love is love — yet none of these pleases without her touch and fragrance; without her, even nectar is tasteless.
Even moon, lotus, love, and desire — though supreme individually — cannot rival the woman who unites all charms.
The white sun is the mirror of the amorous god’s banner — evoking images of love’s rule and the beauty of cosmic interplay.
When the ocean offers nectar to gods, why would poor earthly ponds stir desire? Poetic sarcasm on lower desires.
How did the moon, essence of nectar and joy of eyes, rise today? It seems like the entire charm of Cupid was condensed!
O clever parrot! Serve food through nectar-like words to those with fickle minds — may your sweet speech be salvation!
Your astonishing glance makes the body feel as if bathed in nectar; your lips make the moon blush — such is your beauty!
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