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Her face has outshone the moon—now, the lotus burns in envy and strives to regain its glory.
The creator was deluded by love—eyes mistaken for lotuses, lips for fruits, and so on—such is the enchanting power of feminine beauty.
From this ocean and its drops came gods, horses, and treasures—but the greatest fortune was Krishna’s divine incarnation.
Is there any illusion like human life? From unstable origins arises a cycle of birth, youth, age, and endless desires.
From supreme bliss arises the soul, from soul the mind, and from mind the world—creation flows from pure consciousness.
A wise swan departs the lake unable to distinguish milk from water anymore—longing to speak to the sorrowful companion left behind.
Though legends speak of nectar, wealth, and glory from the ocean, we have never seen even sweet water from it—poetic lament of disappointment.
Abandon sense-pleasures and turn inward, O mind—seek peace in renunciation and stillness, not fleeting worldly joys.
O dark-eyed one, don’t doubt me out of pride—I’m safe and devoted. Love grows not from contact but from cherished memory.
A bird waits for a beautiful flower to bear fruit but finds only fluff inside—disappointment in appearance-based expectations.
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