2023-02-16 06:08:38 by ambuda-bot
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26
24. It is fate that is described as the script on the walls
of a forehead of the new-born as to his future.
A poet prays that Brahmã should not inscribe on
his forehead the misery of reading out the best of
poetry to the insipient: arasikeshu kavitvaniveda-
nam sirasi mã likha mã likha mã likha, Another
prays to Śrī as in this verse that the goddess should
design mercifully to look at the supplicant with
her side-long glances, charming as lotuses, and
help him who is so hapless as to be told time and
again at the portals of the opulent, that the master
is now in bed, now at his bath, and then having
his food, and now pacing in the hall, and later
drying his moistened hair, still later closeted in
his inner apartments, and now again enjoying the
play of dice, which certainly is not the time to
seek his audience, come again later sometime, but
please now be gone, but the rod is here if you im-
portune us any more, is the exasperated reply of
the guardian of the gateway, making it a misery
to the supplicant, all because of his lack of just
the side-long look of the goddess who had assured
the other pelf: nidrāti snāti bhunkte chalati kacha-
bharan soshayatyantar äste divyatyakshair na
chayam gaditum avasaraḥ bhūya ayāhi yāhi,
ityuddandaih prabhūņām asakṛid adhikrītair vāritān
dvāri dinan asman paśyābdhikanye sarasiruharu-
cham antarangair apāngaiḥ, Kuvalayananda. There
is the other remark addressed to the deer enquir-
ing where and what great penance it had performed
to nibble tender grass in the morning and feeling
sleepy snoose at noon, never worrying like those
in penury and hankering for petty rewards intently,
24. It is fate that is described as the script on the walls
of a forehead of the new-born as to his future.
A poet prays that Brahmã should not inscribe on
his forehead the misery of reading out the best of
poetry to the insipient: arasikeshu kavitvaniveda-
nam sirasi mã likha mã likha mã likha, Another
prays to Śrī as in this verse that the goddess should
design mercifully to look at the supplicant with
her side-long glances, charming as lotuses, and
help him who is so hapless as to be told time and
again at the portals of the opulent, that the master
is now in bed, now at his bath, and then having
his food, and now pacing in the hall, and later
drying his moistened hair, still later closeted in
his inner apartments, and now again enjoying the
play of dice, which certainly is not the time to
seek his audience, come again later sometime, but
please now be gone, but the rod is here if you im-
portune us any more, is the exasperated reply of
the guardian of the gateway, making it a misery
to the supplicant, all because of his lack of just
the side-long look of the goddess who had assured
the other pelf: nidrāti snāti bhunkte chalati kacha-
bharan soshayatyantar äste divyatyakshair na
chayam gaditum avasaraḥ bhūya ayāhi yāhi,
ityuddandaih prabhūņām asakṛid adhikrītair vāritān
dvāri dinan asman paśyābdhikanye sarasiruharu-
cham antarangair apāngaiḥ, Kuvalayananda. There
is the other remark addressed to the deer enquir-
ing where and what great penance it had performed
to nibble tender grass in the morning and feeling
sleepy snoose at noon, never worrying like those
in penury and hankering for petty rewards intently,