He is puffed up with pride; he will no more bend than a rod of iron.
Cannot the dull clod recognize his true advantage, even though you dash it in his face?
When his soul departs, he will grow stiff in death; his eyes will be staring wide-open.
Tuka says, If you try to use a pestle as a bow, you will make nothing of it.
Cannot the dull clod recognize his true advantage, even though you dash it in his face?
When his soul departs, he will grow stiff in death; his eyes will be staring wide-open.
Tuka says, If you try to use a pestle as a bow, you will make nothing of it.