Chapter LVII.
We worship the elephantine proboseis of Gaṇeśa, not to be resisted by his enemies, reddened with vermilion, a sword dispelling great arrogance.[1] May the third eye of Śiva, which, when all three were equally wildly-rolling, blazed forth beyond the others, as he made ready his arrow upon the string, for the burning of Pura, protect you. May the row of nails of the Man-lion,[2] curved and red with blood, when he slew his enemy, and his fiery look askance, destroy your calamities.