The chakava is no more to be seen, just as righteousness disappears at the coming of the Kaliyuga (iron age). However much it may rain, not a blade of grass sprouts on barren ground, just as lust takes no root in the heart of Hari’s votary.

The earth gleams with swarms of creatures of every kind; so the subjects multiply in a well-ordered realm. Here and there rests many a weary wayfarer, like a man’s bodily senses at the dawning of wisdom.

Sometimes a strong wind blows and scatters the clouds in all directions, like the birth of an unworthy son, who destroys all the noble traditions of his family.

There is at times thick darkness in the day and at times bright sunshine, just as wisdom is ruined by bad company and brought into existence by the company of the good.

But see, Lakshmana! The rains are over and autumn has returned. How exquisitely beautiful it is ! all the earth is carpeted with flowering kansha (silver) grass, as though the rainy season were exposing its old age.

The constellation Agastya, (i.e., Canopus) has risen and dried up the water on the roads, as contentment swallows greed. The pure, limpid water of the rivers and the lakes looks as charming as a saint’s heart that knows no vanity and infatuation.

By slow degree the water of the streams and lakes is drying up even as the enlightened gradually shake off all notions of mineness (mamata). Knowing that the autumn has set in, the wagtails have made their appearance, like the welcome fruit of one’s meritorious deeds at the appointed time.