। ॥ २ ॥
In plain words
As a child, with more pain than I can bear, my body smeared with its own filth, I thirst for the breast while my senses are powerless. Creatures born from Bhava-mala—the filth of embodied existence—keep stinging me. Overcome by tears through the intense pain of many illnesses, I do not remember Śaṅkara. Forgive my offense: Śiva, Śiva, Śiva, O Śrī Mahādeva, Śambhu.
Close to the Sanskrit
In childhood, from an excess of suffering, my body smeared with filth, thirsting for mother's milk, and powerless in my sense-organs—creatures born from Bhava-mala, the filth of embodied existence, sting me; overpowered by weeping from the extreme pain of many diseases, I do not remember Śaṅkara. My offense is to be forgiven: Śiva, Śiva, Śiva, O Śrī Mahādeva, Śambhu.