502.
Hark! here the sound of lute so sweet,
And there the voice of wailing loud;
Here scholars grave in conclave meet,
There howls the brawling drunken crowd;
Here, charming maidens full of glee,
There, tottering, withered dames we see.
Such light! Such shade! I cannot tell,
If here we live in heaven or hell.
Bhartrihari.