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As the sun rises, its intensity makes it unapproachable—just as proud people avoid the ground near kings.
Unity brings both glory and destruction—powerful in rise, collective forces also fade together.
At dawn, the sun rises behind the Eastern mountain like divine radiance uniting rivers in the sky—a glorious metaphor of union.
Having awakened the lotuses with soft light and enjoyed their bloom, the sun sets again, leaving angry bees behind.
The sun, rising atop mountains, revives the sleeping world—may his golden rays bless and destroy our poverty and darkness.
As the sun rises, hidden moonbeams are scattered like untied hair—his radiant face captures my soul.
This Eastern dawn, pale and beautiful, signals her beloved’s presence—just as a woman's face reveals the heart's desire.
As the sun rises, bees hum in melody across waterlilies, and swans echo with joy—ushering in day with beauty and music.
As lightning streaks and the sun rises, Nature paints her canvas—Rambha’s lower body, twin mountains, moon and conch come alive in form.
Even when the sun rises, if darkness remains, what use is dawn? If karma is unshakable, what of remembering your feet, O Lord?
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