The Song of the Cow ( Gow Gatha)
When old skeletons give me the nightmares,
When old skulls stare through my embittered heart,
When old bones rise from deep graves to scortch the
Young fields full and green and gold and yellow,
When rodents and termite tear my womb and
Consume my liver and intestine and entrails,
I come to you, oh Devas, to seek a
Relief, seek recumbence from this burden.
The Song of the Mother
Drip, a red drop; splash, a red pool; all red;
Red of death; no green; no blue; no golden;
My children, oh Rudra, my own children;
They partake of my life; of sanity.
I can tolerate this not any long;
I am sinking; oh lord Baraha, lift
Me up as you did so long ago.
Narayana Bashyam(The sustainer's Consolation)
The mother's wroth shall kill her own children,
Those corpses shall satiate her hunger,
their warm blood shall make her bosom moist,
till at last her own fires split her bones.
Like a sterile cow's corpse shall she burn down;
and from that ash shall spring life so pure and
so joyous: tama asit tamasa gulamagre. apraketam salilam
tuchyenabhvapihitam yadasit tapasastanmahinajayataikam.