Hey the fierce Bhaerav, on Your report,
The world arose, trembling.
Hey the Bow-Wielder, yon horn's speech,
It booms, proclaiming bolts of lightning.
Upon water, land, and heaven's vault,
Like aural ornament, a bugle rung.
Viewed has the night a boon enemy;
That night He rid immediately.
Darkness of fog, the owl parliament
Had thought will turn yet more intense.
A bin's burning repertoire,
Mid that, it could not persevere.
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Shiva came and conquered the inertia.
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