O Mother, even a dullard becomes a poet who meditates upon Thee raimented with space, three-eyed Creatrix of the three worlds...
O Mother, even a dullard becomes a poet who meditates upon Thee raimented with space, three-eyed Creatrix of the three worlds, whose waist is beautiful with a girdle made of numbers of dead men’s arms, and who on the breast of a corpse, as Thy couch in the cremation-ground, enjoyest Mahãkãla
— Hymn to Kali