They say my skin is smooth and soft,
And call me happy to possess
The twelve fair marks that bring success.[955]
But ah, what profit shall I gain?
Thou, O my lord and life, art slain.
The flattering seer in former days
My gentle girlish smile would praise,
And swear that holy water shed
By Bráhman hands upon my head
Should make me queen, a monarch's bride: