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The more noble one becomes, the more humility he shows — like a well-crafted bow bending in reverence.
Neither rise nor fall is permanent — one may be rich or poor, all as per past karma.
The Lord's love is pure and beyond conditions — Her melting glances and floral offerings are expressions of divine grace.
The salty sea, though vast, cannot match the nectar-ocean — yet arrogance has stripped even the sun of its rays.
The dark clouds with lightning and thunder reflect the curls of a beloved’s hair — monsoon arouses longing in hearts.
In sacred temples, peacocks sleep drowsy and pigeons murmur — oil lamps flicker dividing the holy twilight.
The chakravaka bird cries, roams, dives in water, looks at the moon — grieving through the night in love’s absence.
The female chakravaka, lost in grief, circles the pond but finds no peace — even the broken lotus cannot console.
Let the noisy crows and cranes scream from trees — but the sweet koel’s melody is uniquely graceful.
A preta (spirit) arises from a burning corpse and devours the flesh. Engulfed in inner fire, it runs, cries, pounds itself in torment.
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