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Poets first offer sweet, winding words to the king like a respectful gift, followed by horses and more material offerings.
The moon slowly rises as if witnessing the grief of separated lovers and awakening lotuses—symbolizing hope amid suffering.
The autumn maiden arrives with moon-like face, white garments, and fans, as if goddess Lakshmi is coming to bless the earth.
When Rama, hair tied in matted locks, returns home with Sumantra, the king is so distressed from forsaking his son that he seems lifeless.
Even if one is weak and inferior, one should rejoice in others’ prosperity, for envy results in self-harm.
Amid the cloud-rumble like Cupid’s drum, bees buzz wildly over blossoming kadamba trees—nature echoes love’s chaos.
To cure scorpion stings, chant this mantra in the ear while touching the wound, 21 times.
A mysterious light—perhaps Cupid’s dust, moonbeam, or forest flame—flashes ahead, shattering darkness and stirring longing.
Youths, tired from passionate pleasures with drowsy-eyed brides, lie on beds as if churned by love and intoxication.
A king must fear in policy, not in misfortune. Even if hurt emotionally, he must not act like a broken man.
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