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Even forest-dwellers suffer—mere external renunciation is not enough. True wellbeing requires thoughtful action and mindful living, even at home.
You, a bold ascetic, were exposed by just a glance—yet that glance revealed more than a sacred thread ever could. True identity is beyond symbols.
My heart burns in the fire of grief, my eyes blaze with love-fever, yet you, like a thief, still seek to steal my heart—O Cupid!
A dependent livelihood, shelterless life, lack of initiative—all are painful. But nothing is more painful than poverty.
Piercing pain is hard to bear, carrying weight daily is harder—but earrings are a mere ornament to ears; the face bears no load.
Wealth not earned with effort leaves carelessly, and the speaker laments their misfortune, feeling accursed on this Earth.
The noble do not retaliate when criticized by the lowly—just as a fragrant flower does not fall even when stepped upon.
Hard-earned wealth gambled away, hard-won learning wasted, and inherited virtue lost for a woman’s smile—what can one do when fate rules?
What’s the point of wealth or life for one who sends away a supplicant empty-handed? Such a man lacks true purpose.
Who mocks Cupid’s target—the beautiful woman’s forehead mark? Who rejects nectar? Only fools scorn what is universally cherished.
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