Verse 18

¹³Best of kings, wanting the fight, he looked at that enemy with the thunderbolt for a weapon, the killer of his brother, and remembering that cruel deed, that wrong, he laughed through grief and daze and spoke. ¹⁴By good luck you stand before me, my enemy, killer of a brahmin, killer of a teacher, killer of my brother. By good luck I am out of your debt today, worst of men, with that stone of your heart split by my spear, and soon. ¹⁵You who, without pity and wanting heaven, took the trust of our elder brother, a twice-born man who knew the self, a teacher, sinless and consecrated, and cut off his heads with a sword as if he were a beast.

¹⁶You are thrown off by fortune and shame and pity and good name, and blamed by your own act and by the eaters of men. Your body split by my spear and never touched by fire, the vultures will pick at you with an effort. ¹⁷And the others here who follow you, cruel as you are, mindless, who lift their weapons and strike at me: with their throats split by my sharpened trident I will make an offering of them to the lords of the spirits and their hosts. ¹⁸Or else, Indra, hero, if here you are to crush and take off my head with your thunderbolt, then, out of debt and my body given as an offering to the spirits, I will reach the dust of the feet of those who keep their wits.