The swelling streamlets rush proudly along (bursting their banks), like mean men puffed up with a small fortune. No sooner does the water touch the ground than it becomes foul, like the individual soul (jiva) caught in the web of illusion!

Continuously is the rain water gathering and filling the ponds, even as virtues find their way into the heart of a noble soul. The waters of the streams flow into the sea where they lie motionless like an individual soul that has found (the plenitude of) Hari.

The green earth is so choked with grass that the tracks cannot be distinguished, just as sacred books are obscured by the dissemination of heretical doctrines.

On every side is heard the delightful croaking of the frogs, which reminds one of a batch of celibates chanting the Vedas. Clothed with new leaves, the trees of different species look as green and cheerful as the minds of aspirants who have attained spiritual wisdom.

The aka and javasa have shed their leaves, as in a well-governed kingdom the schemes of the wicked never come to fruition. Search as you like, nowhere is dust to be traced, as righteousness is put out of sight by wrath.

The earth with its wealth of crops makes as goodly a sight as the riches of a generous man. In the thick darkness of the night the fireflies gleam like a mustered band of hypocrites.

The borders of the fields have been breached by the pelting rains like women spoiled by freedom. Clever farmers weed their land, just as the wise rid themselves of infatuation, vanity and pride,