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This is the ocean of milk, the accumulation of fame born from the expansion of the profound meaning of the great works of the virtuous poets. It is churned by the wise, compassionate, learned, who are like gods, with the mountain Meru as the churning rod. The foam that arises from this churning is like the orb of the moon's radiance, and the extremely leaping drops of the sound of recitation become stars. And Mount Kailasa and the like take on the form of the waves rising in this ocean of milk. ||10||
Seeing the poetry of the poets, the gentle-hearted gentleman, fearing that it has stolen the nectar of the gods, shakes his head in regret, being apprehensive of drinking. Knowing that the flood of fame is enjoyable and spreadable for all, he is always delighted with a smile, knowing the impermanence of protection and covering. ||11||