1 The urgings of the people have impelled me, and by the nearest way I bring you the Nourisher.

The servants of the Lord have brought me safely. The cry was heard, Behold, Dubsasu cometh!

2 The ribs that compass me give pain and trouble me like rival wives.

Indigence, nakedness, exhaustion press me sore: my mind is fluttering like a bird's.

3 As rats eat weavers' threads, cares are consuming me, thy singer.

Have mercy on us once, O Bounteous Lord: be thou a Protector unto us.

4 I the priests' seer chose as prince most liberal Kurusravana,

The son of Trasadasyu's son,

5 Whose three bays harnessed to the car bear me straight onward: I will laud

The giver of a thousand meeds,

6 The sire of Upamasravas, even him whose words were passing sweet,

As a fair field is to its lord.

7 Mark, Upamasravas, his son, mark, grandson of Mitratithi:

I am thy father's eulogist.

8 If I controlled life and death, yea, even were I lord of men,

My liberal prince were living still.

9 None lives, even had he hundred lives, beyond the decree of God:

So am I parted from my friend.