Verse 3

¹One day, when the maids of the house had been set to other work, Yasoda, the mistress of Nanda's household, churned the curds herself. ²Whatever songs there were here about the doings of that child of hers, she remembered them while the curds were being churned, and she sang them. ³A linen cloth tied with a cord at her broad hips, her breasts wet with love for her son and shaking with the work, her brows fine, the bangles on her arms swinging with the pull of the rope, and her earrings too, her face damp, jasmine slipping loose from her braid: so she churned.