नमः वज्रयोगिन्यै॥
Salutations to the Vajrayoginī!
Upon the higher mountains perches the Śabarī lass,
Poison-berries on her neck, wearing peacock plumes:
“O you mad Śabara, you drunken fool of a hunter!
Do not hunt me with your arrow like silly fowl;
Take this pretty lass rather for your loin’s fire!”
The many trees in bloom, the branches in the skies,
Through the forest, with thunderbolt and earrings,
The hunter now chased after the lone Śabarī lass!
A bed of the three—body, speech, and mind—
The Śabara laid out and in great joy bedecked;
Like a snake, the Śabara bit and coiled around,
And put his love’s venom in the lass all night.
His heart chewed the sweet betel & camphor,
While the soulless lass clung tight to his neck;
In that great bliss, he surpassed the long night!
“Bend the bow of your Guru’s word, O hunter,
And take aim with the arrow of your own mind:
In one supreme shot, pierce that great nirvāna!”
The Śabara is now with crimson passion aflame:
The hunter has disappeared into the highest peak,
So where and how will you find the Śabara now?
— Mahāsiddha Śabarapāda, c. 8–10th c. CE, eastern India
(Caveat: See this note for this kind of poetic translation.)