By Vidya
Deception is a crooked art,
Born of malice in the heart;
To gain bright colours, rich and bold,
Without the alum, without the gold.
Is being deceived mere foolishness,
Or innocence in righteousness?
The cunning weave their subtle schemes,
Unmasking naked selfish dreams.
How may one gain the world with ease,
Without the sweat that hardship sees?
By pushing, shoving, clearing the way,
To rule by whims from day to day.
True wisdom and relentless toil
Often lose in courtly guile;
If tricks and flattery fill not your veins,
Success may slip despite your pains.
Life is but a shimmering mirage,
That dazzles every wandering gaze;
Beyond the mountain standing near,
A vale of flowers seems to appear.
Glass that glitters like pure gold
So often leaves the wise misled;
Its shining, tempting, false embrace
Steals reason from the brightest head.
Those whose path is truth and grace,
Whose lives uphold love’s warm embrace,
Whose honour lights each step they tread—
Never betray, nor hearts mislead.
Through cruel deceit were stolen away
Prince Kunala’s radiant eyes one day;
Tishyarakshita’s treacherous design
Clipped his wings before their time.
They poison hearts in secret deep,
Then outwardly they sigh and weep;
Such master minds of dark disguise
May dwell before your very eyes.
So many betrayals have crossed my way,
No count could measure them today;
Perhaps the marks of lives long gone
Still linger though the years move on.
Deceivers meet us everywhere,
At home, abroad, in every sphere;
With hidden tricks and cunning blows,
They strike us down before one knows.
“Yes indeed… yes, certainly…” they say,
Their flattering chorus leads the way;
The ranks of those who bow and bend
Seem endless, stretching without end.
— Vidya
Translated by chat gpt
vidus 
टिप्पणी करे