। ॥ ६३ ॥
In plain words
A sandal scuffed raw on the forest trail — and it becomes the brush that cleans Śiva's own body. Water carried home in the mouth and spat out — and it becomes the divine bathing of the Destroyer of the Three Cities. A scrap of meat already bitten into — and it becomes a fresh, first-given offering. What will devotion not do? Look: a hunter of the woods becomes the crown-jewel of all devotees.
Close to the Sanskrit
The sandal, turned about on the road, becomes a brush for the body of Paśupati; the pouring of water held in the mouth becomes a divine ablution for the foe of the cities; the morsel of meat left over from being partly eaten becomes a fresh offering. What does devotion not do? Ah — the forest-rover becomes the crest-jewel of devotees!