Verse 5

¹Then, as Madhava went along the royal road, he saw a young woman bent in three places, with a fine face, carrying a jar of ointment for the body; and as she passed he laughed and asked her, he who gives rasa. ²Who are you, fine-limbed one, and whose is this ointment? Tell us honestly, dear woman. Give the two of us the best of your ointment, and before long good will come to you from it. ³The serving woman said: I am a slave, handsome one, well thought of by Kamsa, and my name is Trivakra, the three-bent; my work is ointment. What I make is very dear to the lord of the Bhojas. Who other than you two is worth it? ⁴Her self overcome by their looks, their softness and sweetness, their laughing talk and their glances, she gave both of them a thick ointment.

⁵Then, painted with it, the two of them shone, coloured with what was not their own colour and finished by it.