The dry bed of a lake steers the course of the ragged feet of the river The stone in dregs of stone of river; where it sinks a heart bent & dry Where it deepens heat of a baked rasp of heart of a tender deliverance.
It was like a stream running into the dry bed of a lake, like rain pouring on plants parched to sticks. It was like this world's pleasure and the way to the other, both walking towards me. Seeing the feet of the master, O lord white as jasmine, I was made worthwhile. (Mahadeviyakka; translated by A.K. Ramanujan)