। स्यात् ॥ २२ ॥
In plain words
When the pain is past all warding off and I am lying there, thrashing, gasping, the sounds leaving my mouth no longer words — then let your great coil of matted hair, bright with the water of Gaṅgā, be the temple my mind is standing in.
Close to the Sanskrit
When I, my pain impossible to ward off, lying down, tossing, gasping, my voice issuing forth unarticulated — then may your circle of matted locks, adorned with the water of Jahnu's daughter, be the temple of my mind.