Poem 545

In plain words

You are only a young girl, are you not, Gauramma? Sāmbaśiva is an old man, dear; His head is all matted locks, dear; what He wears is a tiger's skin, dear; He rides about on a bull; at every hour He goes wandering; He has wound about Him the snakes from the anthill, dear; not knowing His secret, how could you choose Him?