One may be striving all along,
O Kunti's son,
A man of discretion,
Still, the senses turbulent, strong,
...
Withdrawn be when the senses frail
From faggots of fire that assail,
The relish still for them remains
When from desires the man abstains;
...
The graveyard of senses
A skull bowl for bare needs— was all he1 had—
All he needed, joy needs no more to add.
...