Taking of her lords golden coat of
mail, O hero, that damsel is gazing now on the blood-dyed body of her
spouse. Beholding her lord, O Krishna, that girl addresses thee and says,
"O lotus-eyed one, this hero whose eyes resembled thine, hath been slain.
In might and energy, and prowess also, he was thy equal, O sinless one!
He resembled thee very much in beauty. Yet he sleeps on the ground, slain
by the enemy!" Addressing her own lord, the damsel says again, "Thou wert
brought up in every luxury. Thou usedst to sleep on soft skins of the
ranku deer. Alas, does not thy body feel pain today by lying thus on the
bare ground? Stretching thy massive arms adorned with golden angadas,
resembling a couple of elephants trunks and covered with skin hardened by
frequent use of the bow, thou sleepest, O lord, in peace, as if exhausted
with the toil of too much exercise in the gymnasium. Alas, why dost thou
not address me that am weeping so? I do not remember to have ever
offended thee. Why dost thou not speak to me then? Formerly, thou usedst
to address me even when thou wouldst see me at a distance. O reverend
sir, whither wilt thou go, leaving behind thee the much-respected
Subhadra, these thy sires that resemble the very celestials, and my own
wretched self distracted with woe?" Behold, O Krishna, gathering with her
hands the blood-dyed locks of her lord and placing his head on her lap,
the beautiful damsel is speaking to him as if he were alive, "How couldst
those great car-warriors slay thee in the midst of battle,--thee that art
the sisters son of Vasudeva and the son of the wielder of gandiva? Alas,
fie on those warriors of wicked deeds, Kripa and Karna and Jayadratha and
Drona and Dronas son, by whom thou wert deprived of life.
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