I know not how long these wretches must bear the drudgery of life; care and anxiety dwell for ever in their hearts.
While their lips are idle, what pains would it cost them to cry Rama?
They turn aside from this and delude themselves; they are entangled by the intoxicating pleasures of sense.
Though they know this, they know it not; their open eyes they have closed; the storm of illusion fills them, and works its will in them.
Such men, says Tuka, assuredly are void of sense; there may be differences between them, but they all merge into the same character.
While their lips are idle, what pains would it cost them to cry Rama?
They turn aside from this and delude themselves; they are entangled by the intoxicating pleasures of sense.
Though they know this, they know it not; their open eyes they have closed; the storm of illusion fills them, and works its will in them.
Such men, says Tuka, assuredly are void of sense; there may be differences between them, but they all merge into the same character.