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The eyes may read, the ears may listen to this literature
and the hands may serve this literature;
this literature is living, isn't it!"
This time... the thorn feels joy many times more than is felt during the contact with one's spouse;
even being torn-headed,
churning the literature
his head becomes the crusher of the cupid...! Sunk in the rasa (joy) of literature,
though one-legged,
the thorn gets absorbed in dancing.
Slightly smiling his soul
makes the craftsman feel
that
eternally the soul lives devoid of faults;
but everyone's body gives pain to everyone,
that is why it seems
the body is cremated in the end. Oh body!
Burning in fire,
becoming ashes, turning to dust many times,
even then continues burning the soul taking birth again and again.
Silent Soil:: 111
