। ॥ ३ ॥
In plain words
I have grown to manhood and stand in my prime. The five vipers of the sense-objects have bitten me at the vital joint, and my Viveka—the power of discernment—is gone. I am sunk in the sweet pleasures of a child, wealth, and a young woman. My heart has no thought of Śiva; alas, it has climbed onto self-importance and pride. Forgive my offense: Śiva, Śiva, Śiva, O Śrī Mahādeva, Śambhu.
Close to the Sanskrit
Full-grown am I, standing in my youth; by the five venom-bearers that are the sense-objects, at the vital joint, bitten; Viveka—discrimination—destroyed; in the sweet pleasure of son, wealth and young woman, sunk down. In what concerns Śiva my heart is devoid of any thought—ah!—and mounted upon vanity and arrogance. My offense is to be forgiven: Śiva, Śiva, Śiva, O Śrī Mahādeva, Śambhu.