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The workings of time are subtle and often imperceptible. Through gradual ripening, everything transforms into something else.
Your fame has blossomed like a pure flower, with the tender moon as its outer petal, exuding nectar-like sweetness.
The crooked-minded are hard to comprehend. Their speech in the throat, lips, and intention differ—falsehood reigns.
What terrible intellect is this, seemingly made of wood! Though the mind is said to be composed of three gunas, such rigidity is unknown.
How strange is the way of a wicked serpent! One's ears are bitten, yet another loses life—symbolic of backbiting and indirect harm.
The wicked are like serpents—words enter one’s ears, but someone else perishes. It reflects the reach of malice.
Even great virtues like gentleness, wisdom, and noble birth lose their charm if submerged in the ocean of poverty.
People strive hard for virtues that even pearls are broken for. If pearls suffer thus, what of lesser beings?
If there were no just king to discern good from evil, the world would be submerged in darkness, devoid of discernment.
How astonishing is the hypocrisy of deluded people! Their face shows one thing, heart hides another—what even gods can't decipher.
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