Her lips were as red as ripe bimba fruit, parting in a smile that revealed teeth white as jasmine flowers. Her dark, tender limbs were adorned with the fresh shoots of new black creepers, their delicate beauty accentuating her own. A necklace, woven of moonbeams, draped gracefully over her throat and chest, enchanting the hearts of all the celestial dwellers who beheld her. Her words flowed in sweet, melodious tones, reminiscent of the songs of intoxicated bees, and her ears were adorned with lovely earrings—clusters of water-lilies that swayed gently. On her fingers she wore the tender shoots of red aśoka trees, and her garments were fashioned from the gathered flowers of that same tree. Her feet, tipped with red lotuses, had nails as white as jasmine petals; her thighs were as lovely as banana trunks, and her radiant face shone like the full moon. Endowed with every auspicious mark and adorned with all manner of ornaments, she touched her beloved gently, with the charm and affection of a loving woman. Casting off the dark veil of cloud, her face shone with the fullness of the moon; her eyes were blue lotuses, and her breasts, like lotuses bursting under the sun’s rays, delighted all hearts. The air was fragrant with the pollen of countless flowers, and the gentle sound of swan-shaped anklets echoed, announcing the wedding of the goddess. Thus, the autumn season appeared in all her glory. Following her, the two radiant seasons, Hemanta and Śiśira, arrived, pouring forth exceedingly cool waters in all directions. With their coming, the great mountain Himavat sparkled, adorned by showers of icy powder, appearing as if draped in silver. The dense snowfall made the Himalaya gleam, unfathomable and pure, like the ocean of milk. As the seasons changed, the mountain seemed suddenly fulfilled, its grandeur magnified, like a man who has, against all odds, achieved his aim. The mountain’s peaks, covered in layers of snow, shone like a mighty king beneath great white parasols. Breezes stirred the passions of gods and celestial women alike, blowing repeatedly across clear ponds filled with lotuses and water-lilies. These waters, adorned with blossoms, mirrored the beauty of the heavens. At the marriage of the guru’s daughter, the season of spring arrived. The women, with breasts just beginning to swell, grew even more beautiful; the lakes, perfectly temperate, were tinged golden by the pollen of lotuses. Priyangu shrubs and mango trees, their blossoms in full array, seemed to vie with each other, shining with their clustered flowers. On the snowy white peaks, clusters of tilaka flowers gathered together, resembling elders assembled for an important purpose. Aśoka creepers in bloom clung to the sturdy śāla trees, their embrace like the entwined arms of passionate women around their beloveds’ necks. All around grew aśoka, sarja, arjuna, kovidāra, puṃnāga, nāgeśvara, karṇikāra, clove, tāla, aguru, saptaparṇa, banyan, śobhāñjana, and coconut trees. Other trees, heavy with fruit and flowers, delighted the eye, while the lakes, their waters golden, were frequented by chakravāka, kāraṇḍava, and swan birds. In some lakes, lotuses, water-lilies, and fish abounded; ducks, dātyūha, and cranes graced the waters, while birds of many colors, their splendid wings gleaming, sang from the trees. Amidst this abundance, the creatures played, challenging one another and making joyful sounds, their bodies stirred by passion. On the mountain, at the wedding of the mountain’s daughter, gentle, pleasantly cool breezes blew everywhere. Winds from Mount Malaya softly scattered pure white flowers from the trees, and all the auspicious seasons shone together, their forms mingling in harmonious beauty. Jasmine vines flourished, supporting one another amidst the songs of intoxicated bees and heaps of stone flowers. The waters shimmered blue with blue lotuses, white with white stalks, and red with red lotuses, their leaves alive with swarming bees. In some wide waters, golden lotuses bloomed everywhere; in others, beautiful beryl stalks rose up; and in yet more, groves of lotuses encircled the lakes. Delightful ponds abounded, blooming with lotuses and blue water lilies, filled with birds and bordered by rows of golden steps. The mountain’s peaks, crowned with abundantly blossoming karṇikāra trees, rose up, shining like gold. All directions glowed with the color of pāṭala trees, their slightly split red petals swaying in the breeze. On the mountain grew flourishing kṛṣṇa, arjuna, tenfold blue aśoka, and other great trees, all competing in their blossoming beauty. The forests of kiṃśuka trees, adorned by their lovely calls, shone on every slope. Himavat’s beauty was further enhanced by tamāla and gulma trees, their dark blue clusters resembling clouds hidden in the mountain’s crevices. Lavishly blossoming sandalwood and campaka trees spread their wide branches, and the intoxicated calls of male cuckoos filled the air, making the Himalaya shine brilliantly. Hearing the soft, melodious sounds of cuckoos from every side, blue-throated birds fluttered and sang even more sweetly; stirred by their calls, Kāmadeva, bow in hand, stood ready to pierce the hearts of the divine maidens. Then, as the sun’s heat intensified and water became scarce, the summer season arrived at Himālaya, marking the time of the goddess’s wedding. Even so, the mountain’s peaks remained beautifully adorned with clusters of blossoms from many trees. Delightful breezes continued to blow, carrying the fragrances of pāṭala, kadamba, and arjuna trees far and wide. The ponds, filled with blooming lotuses and red filaments, resounded with the calls of fruit-eating geese and flocks of waterfowl along their banks. Kurabaka trees, pale with blossoms, were attended by swarms of bees on every peak. On the broad slopes, bakula trees released their charming flowers in every direction, completing the splendor of Himavat at that sacred time.