THE urgings of the people have impelled me, and by,the nearest way I bring you Pūṣan.

The Universal Devas have brought me safely. The cry was heard, behold, Dubsasu cometh!

The ribs that compass me give pain and trouble me like rival wives. Indigence, nakedness, exhaustion press me sore: my mind is fluttering like a bird's.

As rats eat weavers' threads, cares are consuming me, thy singer, gatakratu, me. Have mercy on us once, O Indra, Bounteous Lord: be thou a Father unto us.

I the monks' Ṛṣi chose as prince most liberal Kurusravana, the son of Trasadasyu's son,

Whose three bays harnessed to the car bear me straight onward: I will laud The giver of a thousand meeds,

The sire of Upamasravas, even him whose words were passing sweet, as a fair field is to its lord.

Mark, Upamasravas, his son, mark, grandson of Mitratithi: I am thy father's eulogist.

If I controlled Immortal Devas, yea, even were I Lord of men, My liberal prince were living still.

None lives, even had he hundred lives, beyond the statute of the Devas So am I parted from my friend.