你将获得entr自然美丽的反映y into the clear waters of the Gambhira River, as into a clear mind. Therefore it is not fitting that you, out of obstinancy, should render futile her glances which are the darting leaps of little fish, as white as night-lotus flowers. Removing her blue garment which is her water, exposing her hips which are her banks, it is clutched by cane-branches as if grasped by her hands. Departure will inevitably be difficult for you who tarries, O friend. Who, having experienced enjoyment, is able to forsake another whose loins are laid bare? A cool breeze, grown pleasant through contact with the scent of the earth refreshed by your showers, which is inhaled by elephants with a pleasing sound at their nostrils, and which is the ripener of wild figs in the forest, gently fans you who desire to proceed to Devagiri. There, you, taking the form of a cloud of flowers, should bathe Skanda, who always resides there, with a shower of flowers, wet with the water of the heavenly Ganges. For he is the energy surpassing the sun, that was born into the mouth of the fire by the bearer of the crescent moon6 for the purpose of protecting the forces of of the sons of Indra. Then, with claps of thunder, magnified by their own echoes, you should cause to dance the peacock of the son of Agni, the corners of whose eyes are bathed by the light of the crescent moon at the head of Shiva and whose discarded tail-feather, ringed by rays of light, Parvati placed behind her ear, next to the petal of the blue lotus, out of her love for her son. Having worshipped that god born in a reedbed, after you have travelled further, your route abandoned by siddha-couples carrying lutes because they fear rain-drops, you should descend while paying homage to the glory of Randideva, born from the slaughter of the daughter of Surabhi, and who arose on earth in the form or a river. When you, the robber of the complexion of bearer of the bow Sharnga, stoop to drink the water of that river, which is broad but appears narrow from a distance, those who range the skies, when they look down, will certainly see that the stream resembles a single string of pearls on the earth, enlarged at its centre with a sapphire. Having crossed the river, go on, making yourself into a form worthy of the curiosity of the eyes of the women of Dashapura, adept in the amorous play of their tendril-like eyebrows, whose dark and variageted brilliance flashes up at the fluttering of their eyelashes, and whose splendour has been stolen from the bees attendant on tossing kunda flowers. Then, entering the district of Brahmavarta, accompanied by your shadow, you should proceed to the plain of the Kurus, evocative of the battle of the warriors, where the one whose bow is Gandiva brought down showers of hundreds of sharp arrows, just as you bring down showers of rain on the faces of the lotuses. Having partaken of the waters of the Sarasvati which were enjoyed by the bearer of the plough who was averse to war on account of his love for his kinsfolk, after he had forsaken the wine of agreeable flavour which was marked by the reflection of Revati?s eyes, you, friend, will be purified within: only your colour will be black. From there you should go to the daughter of Jahnu above the Kanakhula mountains, where she emerges from the Himalaya, who provided a flight of steps to heaven for the sons of Sagara, and who laughing with her foam at the frown on the face of Gauri, made a grab at the hair of Shambhu and clasped his crescent moon with her wave-hands. If you, like an elephant of the gods, your front partly inclining down from the sky to drink her waters which are pure as crystal, in an instrant, because of your reflection on her gliding current, she would become very lovely, as if united with the Yamuna in second location. Having reached the mountain which is the source of that very river, whose crags are made fragrant with the scent of the musk of the deer that recline there, white with snow, reposing on the summit which dispells the fatigue of travel, you will take on the splendour like that of the white soil cast up by the bull of the three-eyed one. If, when the wind is blowing, a forest fire were to afflict the mountain, ignited by the friction of branches of the sarala trees, burning with its flames the tailhairs of the yaks, it would befit you to extinguish it completely with thousands of torrents of water, for the resources of the great have as their fruit the alleviation of those who suffer misfortune. The sharabha there, intent on springing in anger at you who departs from their path, would lunge at you, only to break their own limbs. You should cover them with a tumultu