(578) Toke parabo bale canpa baul phule
As I would adorn You with champa and bakul blooms,
I have kept a garland threaded;
And I've tied my mind to it.
My husband's sister was a hitch, not permitting flower-picking.
Nonetheless, to forest I went; and there I gathered blossoms.
A cloudburst came and made the slopes slippery;
Yet, soaking wet, I've kept moving on my way.
Selling fruit of mahuwa,[1] Your portrait I've acquired.
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Nobility is a product of backstory and not birth.
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