Poet, Nature is trying to rub out the green of youth, and to paint everything white.
No, no, King. You haven't understood the artist. On that white ground, Nature will paint new colours.
I don't see any sign of colours yet.
They are all within. In the heart of the white dwell all the colours of the rainbow.
Oh, Poet, do be quiet. You disturb me when you talk like that.
King, if this youth fades, let it fade. Another Queen of Youth is coming. And she is putting a garland of pure white jasmines round your head, in order to be your bride. The wedding festival is being made ready, behind the scene.
Oh, dear, Poet. You will undo everything. Do go away. Ho there, Guard. Go at once and call Sruti-bhushan.
What will you do with him, King, when he comes?
I will compose my mind, and practise my renunciation.
Ah, King, when I heard that news, I came at once. For I can be your companion in this practice of renunciation.