Amid sky a damru is resounding;
Which is that Rudra, now has come?
Matted locks, their knot has started opening;
With tandav garb, they have adorned.
Horn having sounded with its resonance severe,
The Bow-Wielder dances, seized by which fancy?
He proceeds with lightning-speed,
On north and south poles thunderbolts to toss.
Hey the fearsome Bhaerav, do get calm;
Your special power, please share with all.
What You want, we will give; take it, being cordial...
Hey the tranquil Shiva, King of three regions,[1]
Hey the Gaunga-Bearer, hey the Dance Lord.
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Only through superlatives can I describe.
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