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cheeks dreadful as those of death, devoid of saintly strength
and endowed with the strength of
arms,
rahu, the farer of the swine ways, bereft of discrimination between good
and evil,
cruel by nature,
gets angry, wrathful,
without making noise,
without making morsels,
he devours the sun, the mass of glory entirely.
Like a drop in the ocean,
like a child in the deep lap of the mother the sun merges in the cheeks of the rahu.
The sun disappears... that
it looks like the end of the day, the day looks miserable, lowly like a poor householder surrounded with adverse times.
It is evening, or,
the arrival of premature death! Where is
238: Silent Soil
the courtyard of the lady sky,
like the surface of a woman's forehead
devoid of the vermilion mark,
lovely?
