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These are the dense groves of Vindhya hills, where parrots sing and elephants playfully break trees, and forest breezes cool the cheeks of fatigued lo...
In these swings, adorned women with tilting ornaments and dazzling beauty create a resonant music that echoes like a victory gong of Love’s emperor.
These charming expressions of youth, filled with perfume and passion, act as conquering agents of Love, endlessly capturing the hearts of the wise.
This is not a lotus or water, nor riverbank, nor sky; nor is this dew or night or monsoon—it is the wondrous illusionary art of the Creator.
These dear ones—wealth, family, body—appear cherished, but are illusory like handfuls of sand, causing endless sorrow in the forest of life.
These horses, weary and faltering with drooping eyes, seem to offer surrender like elephants drenched in the fragrance of the Saptacchada tree.
Her thighs are like plantain pillars, her breasts like elephant brows, her navel a lotus—what more can captivate the world eternally?
This artistic maiden, adorned with lotus eyes and cloud-like hair, dispels sorrow and captivates hearts like a muse of all creation.
She with graceful breasts gazes shyly, and even when replying, her hands flutter like bees at a honey-laden lotus—delightful in every gesture.
She is Lakshmi in the home, ambrosial light in the eyes, sandal fragrance on the body—if this be not love, then separation becomes unbearable.
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