Disease

Release him from this wasting disease, from this affliction.

Fly forth from here, O balāsa, like a fine-winged bird from its nest;

The nine and the ninety that come together towards the neck — may all of them vanish from here, like the growths of the apacit disease.

Whatever guilt made by another or made by yourself you have incurred — from that may all beings release you from affliction.

The swellings that are on the neck, and those that are in the armpits, those swellings that are related, that fall of themselves — those we drive away from here.

The arrow is the mother of viśara and its spreading;

The disease that overcame you as you were born from your mother or from your father — that wasting illness we drive away from you;