Verse 13

¹³Under that heavy rain of weapons the son of Uttanapada could not be seen at all, hidden like a mountain in a downpour. ¹⁴At that a cry of dismay went up from the siddhas watching in the sky: This sun of the line of Manu is killed, sunk in a sea of yaksas. ¹⁵The night-walkers were roaring, looking like men who had won the fight, when his chariot rose up out of it, as the sun rises out of mist. ¹⁶Making his heavenly bow ring, carrying grief to those who hated him, he scattered their flood of weapons with his arrows, as the wind scatters a bank of cloud. ¹⁷The arrows loosed from his bow broke the armour of those raksasas and went into their bodies, sharp as thunderbolts going into mountains.

¹⁸Cut apart by his broad-headed arrows: heads with their fine earrings, thighs like trunks of golden palm, arms handsome with their bracelets, ¹⁹necklaces, armlets, crowns and turbans of great price. Strewn with these, those stretches of battleground shone and took the hearts of heroes.