I put myself in child's-pose before you,
mother Nila-Sarasvati.
You give joy & health.
You're sitting on a corpse's chest, on his heart,
leaning aggressively forward.
You have three bright fearsome eyes.
You have a skull-bowl, a sword, big scissors.
Your body shines like blazing fire.
Give me refuge.
Give me ability to arrange words clearly.
Let all your gracious nectar drench my heart
and cut away my pride.
You wear a tigerskin skirtlet
and a garland of bloody heads.
You're frightening
and you remove fear.
(Śiva is the corpse,
я शिव!)
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