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A serpent whose body shines upward and looks coppery is a mongoose — touching it dispels snake poison.
I cry aloud with raised arms, yet no one listens. Why do people not heed dharma, artha, and kama?
One who shoots from above is the eldest, one from navel is middle, and one from below is youngest — a metaphorical classification in archery.
Supreme joy arises neither from upward nor downward energy, but from balanced, middle-focused awakening.
Dogs howling facing the sun with uplifted heads at twilight bring omens of terror — such signs mark city-wide misfortunes.
When one climbing high rests on weak support, he falls — like an axe cutting the tree branch it stands on.
A sword having signs only in its upper half but not below is of medium grade — the best blades bear markings throughout.
O foolish bird! Why do you stretch your neck and yearn for rain from a roaring cloud that barely drizzles? Empty promise is your folly.
Sunlight piercing the open mouths of slain demons makes them wail as they fall — even foes of gods weep under divine power.
Varanasi is like an arid land for worldly seeds — yielding instead the fruit of liberation to all, even the untouchables.
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