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Even the Mandara mountain, tied with a snake, was troubled. Too much intimacy with the wrong force causes destruction.
She goes to the moon-born’s abode, tempted by the silvery sands—but forgets her own home in the ecstasy of the new.
Even oceans fail to quench some fires, clouds fail some birds, and the moon fails to cool down—all outcomes lie in fate.
This isn’t Nandanavana; don’t mistake this mango grove’s beauty, O cuckoo. Here crows will pierce your ears with their harsh cries.
A wise person should offer water above these women during ritual—after two watches, do not give anything more. Ritual conduct.
After long austerities, the sun now finally meets the lotus of your face—O proud one, even that flower fades before your glow.
As rain ends, dark clouds clear to reveal lightning and fragrant kadamba groves—nights resound with frogs and intoxicated winds.
During storms, lovers can't go outside; instead, the cold brings them closer in tight embraces—thus, bad weather becomes joyous.
As storms rage, darkness thickens and lightning cracks—frogs croak while fireflies scatter, creating a chaotic nocturnal theatre.
Whatever the beloved does—smiling, speaking, walking—she imitates her lover like a graceful dancer mimicking every gesture.
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