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This is true justice, O king—punishing a robber of royal dignity proportionately and publicly.
Remind Arjuna and Bhima—the time for which warriors are born has now arrived: to fulfill dharma.
The highest virtue of a woman is to act solely for her husband’s welfare—even sacrificing life if needed.
At sunset, a widow merges into flames beside her husband's corpse—metaphor for the ritual of self-immolation.
The yogi abandons even intellect after attaining the subtlest wisdom—a journey beyond knowing.
A frightened woman, weeping and breathless, seeks her lost child in moonlight—symbol of maternal despair and hope.
A lake created by Bhima’s valor reflects celestial brilliance—his deeds shine through epic heroism.
Observing her ornaments, even sculptors are awed; thinking of Krishna, she sweats in devotion—feminine love and artistic perfection.
Like moonlight on the ocean, the poet’s words drown infamy and highlight virtue—power of literature.
This is the highest secret, the supreme state—path for the renounced, the essence of liberation.
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