These Seven Irk Me Like Pricks

Sight of dull moon of the day, Of bright youth lost in lust, astray, Devoid of lotus a lake, Charming face, in learning no stake, Miser king lost in greedy grimes, Noble man ever in ill times, Man of vile close to king with tricks, These seven pierce me like pricks. ______________________________________ The heart of a poet is very sensitive. Anything ugly, artless, less than esthetic hurts his heart like pricks. Poet Bhartrihari has listed here seven such facts of life that pain him like pricks. The transliteration of the original verse (from hundred verses on Neeti in Sanskrit)is given here: meter: pŗthvī shashī divasa-dhūsarograsita rāga-bhogo yuvā saro vigata-vārijammukham anakśharamsvākŗten | prabhuh dhana-parāyaņahsatata durgatah sajjanah nŗpa-āngaņa-gatah khalo manasi sapta shalyāni me || - neeti-shataka _______________________________________________ Translations |12.06.2019|