Verse 24

²⁴So, in that rain of dust from the wheel of the harsh wind, the mother, unable to make out where her son had gone, poor woman, remembering him most pitifully, grieved and fell on the ground, like a cow whose calf has died. ²⁵Hearing that crying, the cowherd women there, their minds burnt hard with it, their faces full of tears, wept, not finding Nanda's son, when the wind had let go the rush of its rain of dust. ²⁶Trnavarta, his speed gone, wearing the shape of the storm, carrying Krsna, had gone up into the sky and could go no further, bearing so great a load. ²⁷Taking him for a stone, so heavy did he feel, held by the throat, he could not let go of that wonderful child.

²⁸The demon, unable to stir for the grip on his throat, his eyes starting out, with a cry that could not be made out, fell in the camp along with the boy, his life gone. ²⁹Fallen out of the air onto a rock, all his limbs broken apart, terrible, like the city pierced by Rudra's arrow: the women came together and saw him, and wept.