TEXT 17

TEXT 17

eka aśva eka-kṣaṇe, pāṅca pāṅca dike ṭāne,
eka mana kon dike yāya?
eka-kāle sabe ṭāne, gela ghoḍāra parāṇe,
ei duḥkha sahana nā yāya

Перевод

"My mind is just like a single horse being ridden by the five senses of perception, headed by sight. Each sense wants to ride that horse, and thus they pull My mind in five directions simultaneously. In what direction will it go? If they all pull at one time, certainly the horse will lose its life. How can I tolerate this atrocity?