46. The face of the moon shines brightly like the beauteous face of a fairy, so long as it does not appear out of its mansion at night; but it is shorn of its beams, and appears as a piece of fleecy cloud, by its appearance at day light; as the fairy face becomes disgraced, by appearing out of the inner apartment.
47. Look at the lofty peaks of the snowy mountain, covered with the fair vesture of the bright moon beams; and see its craigs washed by floods of the falling Ganges; behold its head capped by perpetual snows, and begirt by creepers of snowy whiteness.
48. Behold there Mandara mountain touching the sky, and crowning the forest with its lofty ridges; here the winds are wafting the cradle chimes of Apsara nymphs, and there the mountainous mines gemming in various hues.
49. See the high hills all around, abounding with blooming flowers like offerings to the gods; see the thickening clouds round their loins, and resounding hoarsely within their hollows, while the starry heaven shines over their heads.
50. There is the Kailása mountain on the north, vying with firmament in its brightness; below it there is the hermitage of Skanda, and the moon shines in her brilliance above.
51. Lo, the god Indra has let loose his winds, to break the branches of trees, and demolish the huts on the ground, the fragments of which they have been carrying afar.
52. The winds are wafting the profuse fragrance of flowers after the rains, and filling the nostrils of men with their odours; while the flights of bees are floating as clouds in the azure sky.
53. Methinks the goddess Flora has chosen for her abode, the blooming flowers in the forests; limpid waters in the marshy grounds, and in villages abounding in fruitful trees, and flourishing fields.
54. The windows are overgrown with creeping plants in the rains, and the house tops are decorated with the flowers of the climbing creepers upon them. The ground is strewn over with the dropping flowers up to the heels, and the breezes are blowing the dust of the flowers all about. All these have made the woodlands the seats of the sylvan gods.
55. The rains have converted the rustic village, to a romantic paradise or fairy land; by the blooming champaka flowers, the swinging of the rural nymphs in their cradles, of creepers, by the warbling of birds and gurgling of water-falls, the blossoming of the tall palm trees in the skirts; the tender creepers blooming with clusters of snow white blossom, the dancing of peacocks on the tops of houses, and the borders shaded by the sal trees; and the rainy clouds hanging over the village and the bordering hills.