Verse 12

⁹Seeing her with the stick taken up, he got down from there at once and ran off like one afraid. The cowherd woman ran after him, whom the minds of yogins, driven by austerity and fit to enter him, have never reached. ¹⁰His mother followed after him, slender at the waist, her going weighed down by the swaying heaviness of her hips, flowers dropping behind her from the hair-knot her running had shaken loose. And she caught hold of him. ¹¹He had done wrong. He was crying, rubbing his eyes with his hand and smearing them with the eye-black, and looking up at her with eyes helpless with fear. She took him by the hand and scolded him to frighten him.

¹²Then, tender towards the child, she threw the stick away, and knowing her son was frightened she set about tying him with a cord, having no understanding of his strength.