If Bhima and Arjuna, O Krishna, have grown so base as to yearn for peace, then my aged father, together with his warlike sons, will avenge me in battle. My five sons, endowed with great energy and led by Abhimanyu, O slayer of Madhu, will fight against the Kauravas. What peace can my heart know unless I see the dark arm of Duhshasana torn from his body and reduced to atoms? For thirteen long years I have waited for better times, hiding my anger in my heart like a smoldering fire. And now, pierced by the verbal arrows of Bhima, my heart is about to break, for the mighty-armed Bhima now turns his gaze toward morality.' Speaking these words in a voice choked with tears, the large-eyed Krishna wept loudly, with convulsive sobs, and tears streamed down her cheeks. And that lady, with full and rounded hips, began to bathe her close and deep bosom with the tears she shed, hot as molten fire. Then the mighty-armed Keshava spoke, comforting her with these words: 'Soon, O Krishna, you shall see the women of the Bharata race weeping just as you do. Even they, O timid one, will weep as you weep, when their kinsmen and friends are slain. Those at whom you are angry, O lady, have already had their kinsmen and warriors slain.'