Oh, daughter of the snow-clad Himalaya Mountain! Kamadeva, the God of love, has only a bow made of arrows, with its string comprised of a cluster of honeybees, and arrows barely five. The spring season (periodical and undependable) is his assistant and the southern breeze, his war-chariot. Yet, with such frail equipment, bodiless and alone though he be, Manmatha conquers the entire Universe, having obtained some favour through your benign side-glance.