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Gahasattasai
Şalutations to Pasupati's cupped palms Filled, at dawn, with the twilight-offer of water Wherein's reflected Gauri's jealous red moon-like face Resembling the red lotus held in worship !
amiam pāuakavvam padhium soum ca je na āņemti / kāmassa tattatattim kuņamti te kaha na lajjamti // (1-2)
Prakrit poetry, verily, is like nectar; Those who know not how to recite or listen to it, Yet discuss aloud the philosophy of love; Are they not ashamed ? I do wonder !
satta saāim kaivacchaleņa kodia majjhaārammi / Hālena viraiāim sālamkāraņa gahānam II
(1-3)
From a huge heap of ten million gāhās Selecting seven hundred only with a poetic core, King Hāla Satavāhana, the dearest to poets, Compiled this wondrous Gahasattasail
· ua niccalaņipphamdā bhisiņivattammi rehai valaa / nimmalamaragaabhāaņaparitthia, samkhasutti vva // (I-4)
Behold ! There sits alone a female crane : Silent and motionless on that green lotus-leaf, Looking a monster-conch milky as it were, Placed on an emerald plate glowing and rare !
kim ruasi oņaamuhi dhavalaamtesu sālichettesu / hariālamamdiamuhi nadi va saņavādia jäā //
(1-9)
Looking at the paddy-fields turning white space, Why do you weep so, casting your face down ? There romains a hemp-field like an actress, lo ! Hor face besmeared with yellow orpiment !
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