The thread of my beloved (tied round my wrist) is like a golden thread to me, and each thread of my blanket is worth a million rupees. Whoso has renounced the rupee (i.e. worldly wealth), for him even millions of rupees mean nothing. I still bear the oil massaged on me by my beloved; hence I would not use yours.

Those threads to me are like gold, priceless my shawl's each warp and web,
Silver I spume like straw me us your wealth,
My hair has Maru's betrothal oil on them, your oil I disdain.

Cotton threads are like golden threads to me, and each strand,
is worth a million,
One who discards silver, millions mean nothing to her,
I will never use your oil as my body is anointed by the beloved's.