। ॥ २७ ॥
In plain words
When just the memory of Raurava and the other hells drops me, out of sheer fear, into a horrifying blackout right here — Mahādeva, then who will carry me across? Oh, my Lord, I have no protector, I am held in hands not my own — O crescent-crowned one.
Close to the Sanskrit
When, merely remembering Raurava and the rest of the hells, through fear I go here into a terrible swoon, O Mahādeva — then, oh, O Lord, who will carry across me, who am without a protector and dependent on another, O you whose crown is the half-moon?