The sins you achieve incessantly are
self-done and contingent.
There is no fate of our part on it
Spouse and children mere shadows.
The hunter's inner eye quivered
hearing the voice echoing in
the auditory sense
It rent his heart away.
Fate is there to feed part of the sin
And for the husband to make theft a job
But no fate to share the stain of sin
Spouse and children are but shadows
The puzzle emerging from the mind's depth
grew and kept on brooding
Some soul awoke-verses bloomed
The great epic was born-'Ramayana'.
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