। ॥ ४० ॥
In plain words
The mind is the water-wheel, speech is the bucket, poetry is the canal and every small channel branching off it — and through them the divine nectar of Sadāśiva's deeds is drawn up out of that ocean and led in. Rooted in the paddy-field of the heart, the young rice of devotion comes to full grain. I am your servant, Bhagavan, Lord of all the worlds: where would famine find me?
Close to the Sanskrit
By the machine of intellect, by the pot of speech, by the graded series of canals and sub-canals that are poetry, and by the divine nectars of the ocean of Sadāśiva's deeds thus brought up — the rice-plants of devotion, joined to the paddy-field of the heart, spread out fruitfulness. For me, your servant, O Blessed One, O Lord of the universe, whence any fear of famine?