नभःस्पृशं दीप्तमनेकवर्णं व्यात्ताननं दीप्तविशालनेत्रम्।दृष्ट्वा हि त्वां प्रव्यथितान्तरात्मा धृतिं न विन्दामि शमं च विष्णो॥
nabhaḥ-spṛśaṃ dīptam aneka-varṇaṃvyāttānanaṃ dīpta-viśāla-netramdṛṣṭvā hi tvāṃ pravyathitāntar-ātmādhṛtiṃ na vindāmi śamaṃ ca viṣṇo
Word by word
The verse says
Seeing you touching the sky, blazing in many colours, your mouths open, your great eyes burning — my inmost self is shaking. I can find no steadiness and no peace, Viṣṇu.
In plain words
Dhṛtiṃ na vindāmi śamaṃ ca — I do not find firmness, or quiet.
Those are the two things this book has spent ten chapters teaching him to build.
He is reporting that they are gone, to the person who taught him.
Where you've felt this · in health
You stand near the edge at the top of a tall building and your legs do something you have not authorised. You know the rail is solid. You can reason about the rail. The reasoning arrives in a part of you that is not in charge of your knees.
Going deeper
Everything Arjuna has learned stops working here, and the chapter does not treat that as a failure on his part.
Steadiness and quiet of mind are the explicit goals of Chapters 2 and 6. He has been given practices for both. In this verse he says plainly that he cannot find either, and nothing in the chapter suggests he should have been able to.
That is worth taking seriously rather than explaining away. The book does not claim its own teachings produce a person who is equal to anything.
What it does instead is more interesting. The recovery, when it comes, does not come from Arjuna managing to steady himself. It comes from the form changing back, at his request, because he asked. The solution to this is relational, not a technique, and that is the whole argument of the chapter's last four verses.