________________
And as soon as,
the attempt was made to enter the nose that getting a kick from the purgatory system came running to the ghee said:
"The shelter of the saint is without blessing, inside there dread gets reared,
that nose is the destroyer of happiness. I want to stay here without complaint, don't send me there now!"
Lo, on this side again
the saffron nodding his head
expresses wonder
giving shelter to the shelterless is
a far cry,
he didn't get even a glance nourished with smile.
Where are the hair of his (saint's) head black ?
Years- ages have passed
having put on the ascetic appearance,
but asceticism looks somewhat absent.
Even there being the head
its purport, its attributes have been forgotten. Where is that sara-dara's (head's) life asaradara (impressive)?
Now there is no hope even of simplicity in body, in mind, in consciousness. Opportunity has slipped
in the limitless forest of the past. I admit that from eternity
the cognition remains in cognition and the cognizable in the cognizable,
Silent Soil: 383
