The eighteenth book, a solemn tale,
Speaks of the dead whom sorrow veil.
For funeral rites and pity's plea,
Mourning's comfort, there you'll see.
A guide to passage, calm and deep,
Where earthly bodies fall asleep.
Then Kanda nineteen begins to bind,
With cosmic hymns for heart and mind.
For sacred objects, time's control,
Planets and stars that hold the soul.
Peace and fortune, it would claim,
Warding off evil's hurtful flame.
The twentieth then appears in sight,
A book of prayer and sacred light.
From Rig Veda chants, a borrowed store,
For rituals grand, and ancient lore.
To Indra's praise, the verses trend,
Before this Veda's journey's end.
