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The amount of suffering one feels equals the depth of one’s attachment. This holds true even for demon princes.
Let the monkey shriek all it wants in the courtyard—only the cuckoo’s song is heard by the wise.
May love be like two clear waters; if one is dried, the other too fades. Selfish love does not survive.
A wise man may act with planning and strategy, but ultimately the result depends on divine will.
Even as a poor man, I feel no lack. I don't envy the powerful. I live without disease or distress.
A man preoccupied with endless planning and actions, without true reflection, misses out on life and dharma.
You have uprooted delusions and placed steady thoughts in their place—such minds alone attain the white-robed state of moksha.
Whatever little you do for afterlife welfare, do it sincerely and without pride, envy, or desire—lest you become a guest in hell.
Waving her hands like fresh leaves in nervous excitement, she finally embraces her beloved, despite coy reluctance.
Why do you wave your leaf-like hands, dear one? The bee doesn't fear a wish-fulfilling creeper—don’t misread his love.
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