Then, O tiger among the Bharatas, that spear, like a meteor coursing through the sky, swiftly struck me in the shoulder, O Bharata. After this my blood flowed terribly, like red ochre from a mountain, where Rama had wounded me, O mighty-armed one, O blood-eyed one. Then I, greatly enraged, sent at Jamadagnya an arrow resembling death and serpent venom. Struck by it on the forehead, that hero, the best of the twice-born, shone, O great king, like a mountain with its peak. Then he, in fury, wheeled about, drew his mighty bow, and set upon the string a terrible arrow, like the end of time, destroying all foes.