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Someone playfully stirred a lotus, now covered in pollen, disturbing bees and setting its delicate petals in graceful motion.
Amidst lightning, thunder, wind, and fire—do not gape, bird! It is but the clouds—personified forces in chaos and grandeur.
One may be intimate to someone and alien to another—like the sun makes lotuses bloom but hides the moonflower.
Cursed by separation from his beloved, a Yakṣa exiled from heaven dwells in Ramagiri’s groves, meditating amidst nature’s tranquility.
One man wails for his lost son, another dances in joy surrounded by dancers—such is life’s strange mixture of sorrow and delight.
A man crosses a river using wood, and in turn helps the wood cross—it’s mutual aid symbolized through poetic metaphor.
Have you ever seen or heard of anyone—on Earth or in heaven—who is free from death?
A lustful man, wealthy, turns even the noblest of courtesans into worshippers—demonstrating how desire and riches can corrupt.
A thirsty traveler seeks the Ganga and is told to walk toward a distant city marked by a needlepoint—a parable of indirect paths to goals.
When insulted harshly, I wear patience like an ornament, but later grieve—thinking he, the virtuous one, slipped due to me.
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