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This garment once adorned my father, then my ancestors; now I wear it for my children to cherish—like passing down values and memories.
The chakravāka bird appears like Brahmā seated in lotus pose, creating life at the dawn of time—a metaphor for divine creation.
This is the right time, O lotus-eyed one, to earn wealth worthy of your fullness and fortune—a call to action for a life of balance.
Is this the moon or a mirror of the night? Its reflection seems deceitful—reminding us how beauty can also veil illusion.
Worldly hierarchies rise and fall by the grace or wrath of fortune—power and servitude are transient.
“This is mine, that is not”—such dualities dissolve in the eyes of wisdom. Hence, I live peacefully, untroubled.
The setting sun teaches that even radiance fades—glory must bow, for rise and fall are bound together.
This lotus bed burns my body—it’s like fire; how ironic that comfort brings pain in the presence of unfulfilled desire.
Soldiers debate whether the radiant figure is the sun, Agni, or Yama, marveling at your brilliance amidst battle.
Her beauty is likened to a riverbank alive with swans and lotuses—the youth’s desire is the buzzing bee around her.
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