The ascetics’ hair enlangled
they are always in a mourning state
None ever inquired to know their secret pains
They pass their life in anguish.
،،äـ ـ êwئº اï ́ ،اÄ ،ج اïº
»ìº Äèان، Ç òº êôèئÇ ê ́
ِ
، ـä sـ ۾ ڙêóðsد ò
ِ
ا،èـ èـ،ـæـ،ـíï ا،Âë،ر
ِ
.ئjي ئïºð }ـ،ـïـ،ـÄ ،،äـ
( 6 داμÇئن ،òæèرا ÄÇ)
Their burnt twigs and sticks
are equal to Jasmine flowers
I would die longing for these ascetics
whose rags are full of flowers
The ascetics are unattractive outwardly
but inside they are like precious gems.
ِ
بô{ئ، بئزار ـ،ـÄô ðsدڙóئ، ê و Äs óئد
،ئ{ôj êïì ́ êôj ،òº ـب¾ئن Çـ ر، ðÇ êîـ،ـj
.ºئ êïìôë mئڙôîئئðن Ëëئ نøô ́ ،ئ{ôè êïìـ èـ نøôº
( 6 داμÇئن ،òæèرا ÄÇ)
Standing besides the bazaar
these rag wearers remember their guide
They recite the verse of the Lord
with full attention
Just as they are sweet tempered
to that extent they are intoxicated with love.