The various other stories and topics forming part of this narrative are like birds of many hues such as the parrot and the cuckoo.

The thrill of emotion that one experiences while listening to this narrative is a park or garden or grove; and the delight one feels is the sporting of birds; the noble mind is the gardener, who waters the garden with the water of love poured from the charming jars of his eyes.

Those who recite this poem with careful heed are the vigilant guardians of this lake. And those men and women who reverently hear it always are like the great gods, masters of this Manasa lake.

Sensual wretches are like accursed cranes and crows who come not near the lake. For here are no prurient and seductive stories like snails, frogs and scum.

That is why the lustful crows and cranes lack the heart to visit this place. For there is much difficulty in approaching this lake, and it is not possible to reach it without the grace of Rama.

Bad company is a rough road, difficult and terrible; and the words of bad companions are so many tigers, lions and serpents; the various occupations and entanglements of domestic affairs are vast insurmountable mountains.

Infatuation, arrogance and pride are so many impenetrable woods, and sophisms of various kinds are frightful rivers.