। ॥ ३९२ ॥
In plain words
This whole universe, everything speech can name and mind can grasp, is Being — nothing else. Stand at the true edge of things, past Nature altogether, and there is simply nothing there except Being. Is a jug or a pot or a pitcher ever really separate from the clay it's made of? No — and yet this deluded person, drunk on the wine of māyā, keeps babbling 'you' and 'I' as if they were.
Close to the Sanskrit
This whole universe, as known through speech and mind, is Being alone; for one established at the ultimate limit beyond Nature, nothing exists at all other than Being. Is what is known as pitcher, pot, jar, and the like anything separate from clay? This one, in his delusion, drunk on the wine of māyā, keeps saying 'you' and 'I'.