The Great Epic of the Bhārata dynasty 6.3.34

6.3.34

ādityamupatiṣṭhadbhistatra coktaṃ maharṣibhiḥ |
bhūmipālasahasrāṇāṃ bhūmiḥ pāsyati śoṇitam || 34 ||

The wells, foaming up, are bellowing like bulls. Meteors, effulgent like Indra's thunder-bolt, fall with loud hisses. When this night passeth away, evil consequences will overtake you. People, for meeting together, coming out of their houses with lighted brands, have still to encounter a thick gloom all round. Great Rishis have said that in view of such circumstances the earth drinks the blood of thousands of kings. From the mountains of Kailasa and Mandara and Himavat thousands of explosions are heard and thousands of summits are tumbling down. In consequence of the Earth's trembling, each of the four oceans having swelled greatly, seems ready to transgress its continents for afflicting the Earth. Fierce winds charged with pointed pebbles are blowing, crushing mighty trees. In villages and towns trees, ordinary and sacred, are falling down, crushed by mighty winds and struck by lightning. The (sacrificial) fire, when Brahmanas pour libations on it, becomes blue, or red, or yellow. Its flames bend towards the left, yielding a bad scent, accompanied by loud reports. Touch, smell, and taste have, O monarch, become what they were not. The standards (of warriors), repeatedly trembling are emitting smoke. Drums and cymbals are throwing off showers of coal-dust. And from the tops of tall trees all around, crows, wheeling in circles from the left, are uttering fierce cries.