I
How a noble soul should be.
Farmer's thrasher collects every grain but blows away the husk,
A noble soul should be such, like the thrasher, gathers the virtues;
And blows away the mind's dirt.

II
My guru and the Almighty, both standing in front of me.
Dilemma it is; whose feet should I touch in submission?
I reach for my Guru's; he alone is empowered
To make my spirit one with the God.

III
Reading many books of knowledge,
Roamed the world but none became a Pundit.
Two and half letters* spells "Love";
One who studied this becomes a Pundit anon.