Hail, foot of Him Who not for an instant quits my heart !
Hail, foot of the Guru-pearl that rules in GOgari !
Hail, foot of Him Who becomes, abides, draws near as the Agamam !
Hail, foot of Him, the One, the Not-One, and the King !
Victory to the jeweled foot of Pinnagan, who severs continuity of birth !
Victory to the flower-foot of Him Who is far from those without !
Victory to the anklets of the King, rejoicing ‘mid those that fold adoring hands !
Victory to the anklets of the glorious One, who uplifts those that bow the head !
Praise to the foot of the Teacher ! Praise to Civan’s roseate foot !
Praise to the foot of the Stainless, who in love stood near !
Praise to the foot of the King, who cuts off delusive birth !
Praise to the foot of glorious Perun-turrai’s God !
By His grace alone, bowing before His feet,
With joyous thought, Civan’s ‘Ways of Old’ I’ll tell,
That thus my former ‘deeds’ may wholly pass.
Adored the beauteous foot by thought unreached.
O Thou, Who fill’st the heaven, Who fill’st the earth, art manifested light,
Transcending thought, Thou boundless One ! Thy glory great
I, man of evil ‘deeds’ know not the way to praise !
Full many a kind of beast, bird, snake,
Stone, man, and demon. ‘Midst Thy hosts I served.
The form of mighty Asuras, ascetics, gods I bore.
Within these immobile and mobile forms of life,
O Truth! as the OngAram dwelling in my soul,
That I may ‘scape. O spotless one ! O Master of the bull !
Lord of the VEdas! Rising, sinking, spreading, subtle One !
Thou cam’st in grace, that all things false might flee,
True Wisdom, gleaming bright in splendour true,
To me, void of all wisdom, blissful Lord !
O Wisdom fair, causing unwisdom’ self to flee far off !
Thou dost create, protect, destroy, enrich with grace,
Release. Thou causest me to enter ‘mid Thy servant band.
More subtile Thou than fragrance. Thou’art afar, art near.
Thou art the Mystic word, transcending word and thought.
Thou dost distil, like honey, in the thought of glorious devotees,
And cuttest off the continuity of births – our mighty One !
Thou didst lie hid, our mighty Lord ! In the strong grasp of deeds,
Thou binding with rare cords of virtue and of sin,
Didst clothe with outer skin, enveloping with worms and filth, –
Within my nine-gated dwelling foul bewildered,
By the five senses sore deceived,
That I, with mind erewhile embruted, – pure one ! – should
Become commingling love, in soul-subduing rapture melt !
Thou cam’st in grace on this same earth, didst show Thy mighty feet
O Teacher ! Honied ambrosia ! Lord of Civa-town !
O venerated One, Guardian, Looser of PAcam’s tie,
Working in grace of love, that in my mind delultion may die out !
Great river of exceeding tenderness, with ceaseless flow !
Ambrosia that satiates not ! Infinite, almighty Lord !
Light unseen that lurks within the souls that sought Thee not !
Thou Who abidest in my soul, till melting waters flow !
Thou Who art without pleasure or pain, Who yet hast both !
Loving to loving ones ! Effulgent One, Who all things art,
And their negation too ! Great Master, whom no darkness gathers round !
First One, Thou’rt End and Midst, and art devoid of these !
Father, Lord, Who drew’st, and mad’st me Thine !
Eye of the minds that see by keenest glance of wisdom true,
Hard to be eyed ! Subtle understanding, none can scrutinize !
Holy ! Who comest not, nor goest, nor mingling liv’st !
Guardian who guardest us ! Great Light whom none can see !
Flood of delight ! Father ! Light of all passing splendours
That appear ! Unutterably subtle Intellect !
Of all that in this world diverse pronounced as truth
Is known, Thou art the knowledge sure ! Full certitude !
Precious ambrosia, fountain welling up within ! My Owner Thou !
Aran! All Thy saints made true invoke Thee,
Worshipping abide, and praising Thee, from falsehood freed,
Hither return no more ! That deeds and birth cling not,
To sever bonds of this deceitful sensuous frame the might is Thine !
Lord who dost dance, trampling dense darkness down !
Dancer in Thillai ! Dweller in the Southern PAndi land !
Thou Who dost cut off evil birth ! – Adoring ever, Thee they name,
Whom words declare not; then ‘BENEATH THY SACRED FEET
THEY LEARN THE MEANING OF THEIR SONG. The blessed ones
In Civan’s town who dwell, – full many a one, – beneath
The feet of Civan, lowly bending utter praise.
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