Poem 418

In plain words

Gulping and gulping, You drank the milk of the breast, and I could not see the wonder of You seizing Pūtanā and slaying her; however many ropes were tied round it, it could not be bound, that belly of Yours, and I could not kiss it. The pangs of giving birth were my portion; the delight of Your sweet ways was Yaśodā's portion. Though I had children, I became as a barren woman; though she never bore a son, Yaśodā became the mother of a son.