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Like decorated trees uprooted by a storm, virtues scatter when pride grows — even shadows disappear.
A flock of birds flies from the palace like a torn Vaijayanti garland — broken elegance in flight.
The moon has risen — are those the chakora birds rising to greet it or eyes full of wonder?
Flying upward is natural; one who practices untiringly stays youthful in spirit, even in old age.
A vulture rises high only to pounce downward — like enemies smiling to plan one’s downfall.
A path may seem as humble as grass, but what's praiseworthy is one that’s even and clear. Three kinds of paths exist and six kinds of strength must be...
The bee, intoxicated by fragrance, ignores the thorny stings of the ketaki flower. So too desire blinds to suffering.
Just as clouds stir peacocks into dance, Cupid stirs the hearts of the young into restlessness.
As sun rises, even the beauty of moon fades; separated lovers like chakravakas sigh, their reflections fading in time.
Let your longing rise even amidst thorns. But O beetle! why defame the sacred pollen of the lily?
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