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This nectar-like joy, sweet and boundless, is lost in time through the playful unions of young brides in love.
This fresh nail mark on your breast speaks of love; cover it with your veil, dear friend, for modesty.
It is cruel that cold wind reminds one of a lost lover’s warm breasts—it adds frost to already frozen hearts.
This golden bracelet, loosened and marked by constant rubbing and tears, keeps slipping from my thin wrist each night.
Even the mere desire for something unattainable can torment me; what then when the blooming spring shows fresh mango shoots?
Speak only what is pure and gentle; harsh words make a person an enemy to all.
I pray to that ocean of mercy, whose face is like the moon—may each birth be devoted to your worship.
In the sky, the moon rises breaking through darkness—its radiance a source of endless joy to the eyes.
Cupid, inciting desire in secret, uses the sight of flowers and glances to quickly stir hearts toward pleasure.
One must perform every duty with careful thought and virtue; only such kings truly enjoy dharma, artha, and kama for long.
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