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The body, made from earth, water, and fire, is born from delusion and perishes over time—it’s like a house built of elements.
Just as fire resides in wood and air in the body, the soul is all-pervading yet unattached—pure consciousness beyond nature.
This body with weak joints is sure to fall apart—O foolish one, don’t seek medicine, drink the immortal potion of Krishna’s name.
A roadside water-pot invites tired travelers to drink and forget their burdens, spoken sweetly by a poetic maiden.
Life is a magical illusion built of family, body, wife, and son; under karma’s spell, no one is truly one’s own.
This is a great invocation for peace, intellect, fame, and supreme liberation—a perfect utterance.
The true fruit of a man’s penance and learning is to sing the praises of the divine and noble virtues.
This city thrives on trading honor, loyalty, and reputation—its commerce is of service and virtue.
The true sign of greatness is when one’s mind doesn’t become enslaved by joy or sorrow.
The essence of poetic genius lies in contemplating refined verses—mere recitation without reflection can destroy its spirit.
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