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The great cry
tore the hearts
of the Sons
of Dhritarashtra
the tumult
made the sky
and the earth
resound.
I see no good
in killing
my people
in battle,
Lovely-Haired Krishna!
Krishna, I long
neither for victory
nor kingship
nor pleasures.
Lord of the Cows,
what is kingship to us,
what are delights,
or life itself?