चतुश्चत्वारिंशः सर्गः (Sarga 44): निशायुद्धम्, धूलिरुधिरप्रवाहः, इन्द्रजितो मायायुद्धम्
हतैर्वानरवीरैश्चशक्तिशूलपरश्वधैः ।।।।निहतैःपर्वताकारैराक्षसैःकामरूपिभिः ।शस्त्रपुष्पोपहाराचतत्रासीद्युद्धमेदिनी ।।।।दुर् ज्ञेयादुर्निवेशाचशोणितास्रावकर्दमा ।
hatair vānaravīraiś ca śaktiśūlaparaśvadhaiḥ |
nihataiḥ parvatākārair rākṣasaiḥ kāmarūpibhiḥ |
śastrapuṣpopahārā ca tatrāsīd yuddhamedīnī |
durjñeyā durniveśā ca śoṇitāsrāvakardamā ||6.44.14||
Allí el campo de batalla quedó cubierto como por ofrendas de armas “a modo de flores”: héroes vānaras abatidos por jabalinas, tridentes y hachas, y rākṣasas del tamaño de montañas—cambiadores de forma—derribados también. El suelo se volvió difícil de distinguir y difícil de transitar, un lodazal removido por la sangre que corría.
There with warriors of Vanaras wounded by javelins, tridents and axes, and the Rakshasas of mountain size who could change their form at will, the battlefield was muddy, and wet with blood flowing and difficult to reach.
Even a dharmic war produces devastation; the verse functions as a moral mirror, warning that righteousness must be guided by necessity, proportionality, and a constant remembrance of human (and living) cost.
The narrator describes the battlefield after heavy exchanges: bodies, weapons, and blood turn the ground into a dangerous, unrecognizable mire.
Sobriety and responsibility: the imagery pushes the listener to value restraint and ethical clarity, not mere triumph.