What makes you dance in such frenzy?
What does the third eye see?
What makes the hills tremble at your feet?
Why the tiger skin as your seat?
The serpent on your neck, your wife at your side
The trident, the drum and the bull that you ride
Crescent moon and the Ganga adorn matted hair
Rudraksh, loin cloth, and torso all bare
Your attire, your way,
What does it convey?
Residing on mountains hidden from all
Never failing to answer even one despaired call
Eyes closed in meditation and throat glowing blue
A Yogi, a Siddha or God? Who are you?