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The grieving bee, trapped in the lotus, laments like a separated lover, expressing deep sorrow through broken melodies.
War-elephants thunder through forests and mountains, but even they fail to capture the fierce and untamed resolve of victory.
Even goddesses fear curses and remain guarded — such is the protective radiance of Sita that shields the divine.
It is only proper to cover breasts that steal the luster of golden mountains — not the moon’s face!
Even a fragrant screw-pine has thorns; your harshness, O thorny woman, defies your beauty and scent.
The beautiful breasts deserve to be bound — like skilled thieves stealing the hearts of the youth at first glance.
Better is a love that’s criticized than an emotionless gesture, for etiquette without feeling lacks worth among noble women.
Even right actions may not bring wealth, and falsehood misguides. Why wouldn’t the wise, who are denied joy, grieve?
Just as balanced scales tip suddenly due to hidden excitement, women too may fall despite appearing stable.
The thin form of a frugal person appears beautiful, like the second moon — charming despite being lesser than full.
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