Zest for sight, no doubt, is true O men endowed with art and tact, what aim or goal such sight can serve which fails to see the inmost part?

The aim of heart is to infuse eternal glow in human hearts: What is the use of warmth that, like a spark, expires and soon departs?

O vernal drop, what is the worth of mother-shell and such pearl, if truth can not defeat untruth and river does not swell and swirl?

It may be poet's verse or song, or breath of one who plays on reed what does that morning breeze avail if stead of freshness sear it breed?

Without the aid of wondrous acts no nation ever can advance: An art that has no Hoses' Rod a people's status can't enhance.