Jalapradanika Parva — The same continued

Gandhari said There, O Madhava, my. son Vikarma, praised by the wise, lies on the naked earth, killed by Bhima and wounded horribly.

O destroyer of Madhu, Vikarna lies there dead in the midst of (slain) elephants like the moon in the autumnal sky surrounded by blue clouds.

His broad palm, covered with leathern fence, and scarred by constant holding of the bow, is pierced with difficulty by vultures desirous of eating it up.

His helpless young wife, O Madhava, is continually but unsuccessfully trying to drive away those vultures desirous of feeding on carrion.

The youthful, brave and beautiful Vikarna, O foremost of men, reared in luxury and worthy of every king of happiness, now sleeps on dust, O Madhava.

Thought all his vital parts have been cut with cloth-yard and bearded arrows and Nalikas, yet the natural beauty of his body has not left this best of the Bharatas.

There, my son Durmuksha, that destroyer of a great number of enemies, sleeps facing the enemy, slain by the heroic Bhiinasena in satisfaction of his promisc.

His face, O Krishna, half eaten away by beasts of prey, looks more beautiful like the moon on the seventh day of the light fortnight.

Look, O Krishna at the face of that heroic son of mine. How could that son of mine be killed by enemies and thus made to eat the dust.

O amiable one, how could that Durmukha, before whom no enemy could stand be killed by foes.

Look, O slayer of Madhu, at that other son of Dhritarashtra, viz., Chitrasena, the best of all bowmen, slain and lying on the ground.

Those young ladies, stricken with grief and crying piteously and now sitting, with beasts of prey, around his beautiful body bedecked with wreaths and garlands.

The piteous lamentations of women, and these cries and roars of beasts of prey, appear highly wonderful to me, OKrishna.

Young and beautiful, and always waited upon and served by the most handsome ladies, my son Vivinshati, O Madhava, sleeps there, covered with dust.

His armour has been cut with arrows. Killed in the general destruction, the heroic Vivingshati is now encircled and waited upon by vultures.

Having in battle penetrated the ranks of the Pandavas army, that hero now sleeps on the bed of a most exalted and heroic Kshatriya.

Look, O Krishna, at his very beautiful and smiling face, having excellent nose and beautiful eyebrows, and resembling the shining Moon himself.

Formerly a body of the most beautiful ladies used to wait upon him, like thousands of celestial girls upon a sporting Gandharva.

Who again could stand before my son Dussaha, that destroyer of heroic enemies, that hero, that ornament of assemblies, that irresistible warrior, that resister of foes.

The body of Dussaha, covered with shafts, shines like a mountain overgrown with blossoming Karnikaras.

With his golden garland and his bright armour, Dussaha, though dead, shines yet, like a white mountain of fire.