Beautiful is thy wristlest , decked with stars and cunningly wrought in myriad - coloured jewels . But more beautiful to me thy sword with its curve of lightning like the outspread wings of the divine bird of Vishnu - perfectly poised in the angry red light of the sunset .
It quivers like the one last response of life in ecstasy of pain at the final stoke of death ; it shines like the pure flame of being burning up earthly sense with one fierce flash .
