Verse 12

⁷Who are you, and what do you mean to do on this hill, best of sages? Are you some maya of the Bhagavan, the god beyond gods? You carry two bows without strings, for a friend or for yourself. Or do you hunt heedless deer in the wood? ⁸These two arrows of yours, revered one, are feathered with lotus petals, quiet and lovely, without notches, their points very keen. At whom will you loose them, walking in the wood? We do not know. May your prowess be for the safety of us dull ones. ⁹Your pupils, revered one, recite all around you, singing the chant and its secret to the Lord without stopping. Shaken from your topknot, every one takes to the showers of flowers, as troops of sages take to the branches of the Veda.

¹⁰Brahmin, we would hear from you the high speech of the partridges caged at your feet, loud and shapeless. And where is your bark cloth? On the kadamba-fair round of your hips is a ring got as from a whirled firebrand. ¹¹Twice-born one, what is stored in those two bright horns, between which you carry a slender waist where my sight has caught and stayed? A red sweet-smelling paste is on your horns, and with it, lucky one, you make my hermitage fragrant. ¹²Best of friends, show me your world, where one born there carries on his chest two limbs never seen before, that lift the mind of a man like me, and where a face like the nectar of sweet play holds so much wonder.