He is clothed in the flayed hide of the dark tusker;
Flexing His shapely and splendorous shoulders,
He,
holding fire,
dances Whilst His sounding anklets chime in concord;
He is the Lord that dances Adorned with a crescent in His matted crest;
She of the glorious and resplendent visage Beholds His dance,
seated Whilst the celestial throngs bow with their heads.
He is of Perumpatra-p-Puliyur.
Unlived indeed are the days unspent in His praise.