Beholding this princess, this mother of
Lakshmana, O thou of mighty arms, my heart is torn with grief. These
beautiful ladies of fair arms, some seeing their brothers, some their
husbands, and some their sons, lying down in death on the bare ground,
are themselves falling down, seizing the arms of the slain. Listen, O
unvanquished one, to the loud wails of those elderly ladies and those
others of middle age at sight of this terrible carnage. Supporting
themselves against broken boxes of cars and the bodies of slain elephants
and steeds, behold, O thou of great might, those ladies, worn out with
fatigue, are resting themselves. Behold, O Krishna, some one amongst
them, taking up some kinsmans severed head decked with beautiful nose and
earrings, is standing in grief. I think, O sinless one, that both those
and myself of little understanding must have committed great sins in our
former lives, since, O Janardana, all our relatives and kinsmen have thus
been slain by king Yudhishthira the just! Our acts, righteous or
unrighteous, cannot go for nothing, O thou of Vrishnis race! Behold, O
Madhava, those young ladies of beautiful bosoms and abdomen, well-born,
possessed of modesty, having black eye-lashes and tresses of the same
colour on their heads, endued with voice sweet and dear like that of
swans, are falling down, deprived of their senses in great grief and
uttering piteous cries like flights of cranes. Behold, O lotus-eyed hero,
their beautiful faces resembling full-blown lotuses, are scorched by the
sun.
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