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As she rushes forward, her garland loosens, hair entangles—but she doesn’t pause, showing urgency or love’s intensity.
If he looks at the road and starts adorning her hair, he hasn’t been captivated by another—his loyalty shines.
The traveler, mistaking the dome-like breast for storm clouds, fears fire rising from a pyre—poetic blending of form and imagination.
A wise king observes others' activities via clever messengers; without such vision, a ruler is like a blind man.
Many shine with outer brightness like the sun, but only the truly skilled act like grinding stones—silent and effective.
My vast vision has been shattered by darkness; even when I open my eyes, I see nothing—such is the weight of sorrow.
The sun lights up the cosmos and governs time, yet even he follows cosmic rhythm—your own obedience is praised.
A single glance may enchant or destroy—such is the danger of fleeting beauty or momentary desire.
Colorful birds seeing grey skies and longing hearts fly off, but cloudy weather and sorrow trap both bird and mind.
Early morning red clouds mimic the sun’s rise, but it’s just bees playing a trick—the sky still holds darkness.
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