Of the many verses in praise of Arunachala that Guhai Namashivaya
believed to have composed, only two of his poems have been published
Arunagiri Antadi (100 verses) and Tiruvarunai Tanivenba (36 verses). In
the 1980s more of his poems were found including the Arunagiri Malai
the venba metre. Other stray verses of his are found in the writings of
Namashivaya was born in Karanataka and spoke Kannada as his mother
tongue, he thoroughly mastered the Tamil language. The Arunagiri Antadi
is often used as a text in Tamil schools to illustrate the intricacies
of the venba metre. Ramana Maharshi remarked on several occasions that
this metre was reputed to be the most difficult form to compose in; and
Ganapati Muni, a superb extempore poet, once confessed that the venba
metre was so difficult, he was unable to utilise it.
Dandapani Swami, a
famous 19th century poet and scholar, felt that Guhai Namasivaya's
poetry was so good it could only have been composed as a result of
divine inspiration. In his verse biography of Guhai Namasivaya he wrote:
“Although learned in no language other than Kannada, my
Lord Siva caused him to compose venba verses of an excellence that only
the most eminent of Tamil poets could equal. He could not have done it
had he relied on his own inspiration alone.”
When we join our hands in worship of the elephant-headed one,
Son of Lord Arunachala,
Who is anger pierced the lion-headed Vishnu with his beak,
He grants success in deeds and gives forth wisdom,
He brings red-hued Lakshmi to our side,
He inspires devotion to God and confers true knowledge of reality.
Lord who stands immanent as the Red Mountain, full of glory,
Unseen by the black cloud of Vishnu and the lotus-born Brahma,
Who on this fair earth can grasp and speak your greatness,
If you, in compassion, deign not to bestow your grace.
Immaculate One who swallowed the poison from the ocean of milk! Exalted emissary! Holy Guru in the form of the Red Mountain,
Who delights our eyes and gives us nurture!
To a dog such as I, who never thought
To strew flowers at your feet in the early morning,
You afforded me shelter.
Lord who burned up the God of love,
Who bears a bow of sugar cane!
Your pure heart is my only recourse.
Without that, everlasting Lord Sonagiri,
Who ate up the abundant venom,
What salvation then remains for a dog such as I?
Lord Sonagiri, seat of true knowledge,
Whose glory spreads throughout the world,
Is the one who cuts away the illusion-fraught births
Of those who speak of him!
Immaculate and unapproachable Mountain, look upon me,
And grant that I shall no more take form within a mother's womb.
Lord who wears an ornament in his hair,
Red Mountain of fire, without you to watch over me,
Who else is there upon this earth for a dog such as I
To wipe out this very day unceasing birth and close-pursuing death?
Lord of the Vedas that imparts goodness, venerable Red Mountain,
The First Cause that Vishnu sought!
If you fix your graceful thoughts on me,
Surely the results of my good and evil deeds,
And my soul's three-fold impurity
Will be abolished this very day,
And cease to crush this solitary devotee!
O my heart!
If you meditate with love upon the form of the Red Mountain Lord,
Who drank with relish the poison hala,
He, the Supreme One, will dissolve the worldly fetters
That vex you and keep you in thrall.
What cause then is there for you to fear the Lord of death?
Monarch who dwells as the Red Mountain,
When I lauded you as the Supreme One,
Worshipping and praising you with melting heart,
When I sought your favour with hands clasped
And tears running down from my eyes,
You granted me my boon, according to my desire.
What I might offer you in return, I cannot see.
Exalted Red Mountain, wisdom's very form,
Who thwarted the desire of Daksha who dared oppose him!
You whose locks are intertwined with the holy Ganges!
My desire is to see and know your holy form, giving you my love, Before my eyes grow dim and weak.
The white ash that he joyfully wears,
The serpent, the fiery eye,
And the beautiful necklace, bearing Brahma's severed head:
Worship these, the sacred emblems of the Red Mountain Lord
And he, comprehending, will sunder
The powerful bonds of the deeds that crush and oppress you.
My heart! The Great One whose throat the poison hala adorns!
The Supreme One who in anger consumed with fire the god of love! Wearer of the divine form, whose feet the boar sought,
Calling out his name, but could not see!
He has come, assuming the bodily shape of the Guru!
What wonder is this?
Whom even the primordial Vedas cannot know,
Red Mountain Teacher!
I know not what austerities I, a poor wretch, can have performed
That their reward should be to seek you out,
And sing of your glory.
My heart! By praising the bounteous one
Who drives away the effects of evil deeds
That torment perpetually the hearts
Of those in whose mind there is attachment,
We have received our boon;
We have received the fruit that is proper for this human birth;
We have ceased to be reborn.
When we perceive in our hearts the Red Mountain Master,
Our boon will be granted,
Our life will be illuminated by true knowledge,
Strength, wealth and endurance will be ours.
Of what worth is the opinion of those who do not thus perceive him?
Although the intense suffering of birth and death
Pursues remorselessly all the variously established life forms,
What hurt can it do to those
Who implant in the hearts and meditate upon
The holy lotus foot of the red-hued Lord?
By virtue of hearing the songs of the three devotees of Lord Sonagiri, Who establishes the truth in the hearts of devotees,
The huge rock will float on the flood,
The crocodile's jaws will restore the living child,
And dry bones will become a well-formed young girl.
Just as the wicked Daksha, whilst conducting his sacrifice,
Lost his own head, of ambrosia-like beauty,
And received in return the head of a goat,
So we have seen that the undertakings of those
Who do not worship the feet of the supreme Mountain Lord,
Will ever come to nothing.
When the host of the gods,
Seeing the poison hala arise from the ocean of milk,
Trembled with fear and ran to him in great confusion,
Crying aloud for succour,
He stood affording his protection, for all the world to know;
Lord Sonagiri, whose love for his devotees is ever unfailing.
While ten million Brahmas are born and die,
A single day passes for Lord Vishnu,
He whose eye is like the glorious lotus flower,
And then Lord Vishnu goes to sleep on the leaf of the banyan tree. When we consider the matter,
At the merest hint of a smile from Lord Arunachala Siva,
In his compassion,
Ten million Vishnus will be born and die
Most desirable Lord of the Red Mountain,
Who holds in his hand the smiling deer,
Immaculate One, who protects me
As I enter the round of birth and death,
Without you, my only fitting guardian,
Who else is there in the wide world to give succour to a dog such as I?
My heart! To speak in praise of the Red Mountain One,
Who takes as his food the poison from the billowy sea,
This is your duty.
Praise him and the reward of his holy foot will be yours.
Disease, old age and death for you will disappear.
You shall reach the shore of birth's ocean.
My heart! Fix your thoughts on the Red Mountain Teacher,
Who, if you believe in his grace and praise him daily,
Will take hold of you, desirous for your good, saying,
'Behold, I am here!'
If you think of him thus, all the painful effects of your actions
Will subside and go away.
Except in response to the songs
Sung by the three devotees of Lord Sonagiri,
Who tears out by the roots our painful cycle of births,
Would the crocodile who ate the child spit him out again alive?
Would the rock succeed in floating on the chilly waters?
Would the male palmyra tree yield up fruits?
Before my corpse decays; before my eyes grow dark;
Before my teeth rot and fall;
Before the Lord of death, his eye fixed upon my body, comes hurrying,
Seek out Lord Sonagiri, my heart.
Greet him with praise and walk in his way.
Those who prize the prestige of good family
And high learning as their own
Know nothing of how to curb their desire.
Will the works they compose
Reveal the twin-lotus feet of the Red Lord Sonesan?
Will their high-sounding name bring those feet any the closer?
Be they of lowly birth, without the advantage of learning,
Unable to practice the virtue of liberality,
It is of no account.
Those who perform pradakshina of holy Aruna, the Supreme,
And submit to his rule
Will excel even amongst the most excellent.
Those who desire the boons of fame, long life and children,
All praise the Red Mountain Lord.
For those who praise him continually,
Incapable of forgetting him even when asleep,
There is no further birth.
I know nothing of the past, nothing of the future, a simpleton!
Why? I do not even know how to compose a song garland.
Even with the aid of your grace,
My mind cannot perceive and speak of
Your manifest qualities and their inner meaning.
Lord Sonagiri, who comes mounted upon the white bull
For the true devotee who knows his inner meaning to look upon!
You it was who, perceiving the vanity of Brahma,
Master of the four Vedas,
Cut away one of his five jewel-encrusted heads
To keep him from error.
Rule, regent of the heavenly host! Exalted Red Mountain!
May they prosper if they can
Those who, although they have seen at his feet
The eye of Vishnu, bearer of the conch,
And in his red hand, of noble fame, the head of Brahma,
Still deny his supremacy in their words and thoughts.
The Supreme One, whose meaning the great unattainable Vedas seek,
Red Mountain, the First Cause whom the hosts of holy men praise,
He will surely come,
Wearing the necklace with the severed head and mounted on the bull
To unite his being with ours amidst our worldly sorrows.
Lord Sonagiri, who rules over us,
When will you grant your grace in answer to my plea,
So that I may behold that beautiful form,
When you and Goddess Uma, who shares your being,
Are seated joyfully side by side.
For those who have no faith
In the holy feet of the Red Mountain Lord,
Of what use is it to go off wandering
Among the forests, mountains and caves,
To consume various life-prolonging potions,
Or to take an untimely death?
Those who have seen the holy feet of the Red Mountain Lord,
The foremost one, whose body blazes with the fire of true knowledge, The
refuge unattainable both to the boar, who sought his two feet,
And to the swan who sought his glorious crown,
They will never again enter the womb.
Supreme Lord, who stands beyond the reach
Of him who is like a black cloud and of lotus-borne Brahma,
Great One who rides the bull!
For those who praise the devotees of the royal Lord Sonagiri
Who bears aloft the incomparable deer and axe,
What sorrow can there be?
The thought of reaching the lotus foot of the Red Mountain Lord
Praised by all those who have practised great austerities,
Can it arise in a dog such as I,
Languishing daily, as I am, in the sorrowful unending cycle of births?
Father Sonagiri, whose greatness is such that it cannot be spoken,
And even the thoughts of Mal and Brahma cannot encompass it!
Grant that the surpassing beauty of yourself,
Joined in indissoluble union with your bride,
Will never fade and recede from my sight.
Unapproachable Red Mountain Lord,
Whom even the dwellers in heaven praise!
When I, enquiring with bold confidence,
Look upon the lotus flowers of your two feet.
Which neither Hari nor Brahma could perceive,
The mind of this poor beggar will be destroyed.
To the bestower of wealth who destroyed the three cities
To assuage the mental turmoil of the great rishis!
To the protector who cut off the head of Daksha,
Who was born of Brahma, through his grace!
To the Red Mountain Lord!
Look to him, O my heart, for your salvation.
My heart, place your trust each day in that truth
That was fully proclaimed by the king of heaven,
The Red Mountain Lord.
Whether he brings ruin upon our heads,
Or whether he lifts us up through his grace,
Repeat the name of Lord Sonesan and believe in his word.
Unique One, giver of goodness, Lord Sonagiri!
He whose beautiful form is seated upon the bull!
When will you grant me the boon of eternal life,
At what time shall I, in joy, obtain it?
This much tell to me, your solitary devotee, this very day!
Taking a necklace of rudraksha beads,
Whose nature is suited to solitude,
Recite the five letters with full voice, one by one,
Mindful of their meaning.
Thus, earnestly seeking the feet of Lord Sonagiri,
Whose ornament is the snake,
We shall obtain the boon of freedom from death for all eternity.
Those human souls who know nothing of the devotees of the
Eternal Red Mountain Lord,
Who lays down the path that we must follow,
They have no thought for the fruits of their actions,
No thought for the results of their good and evil deeds.
They are ignorant of the worship that is fitting for Lord Siva.
Bounteous one, Lord Sonagiri!
Though men are one in their physical form,
Why have you thus ordained it
That some live according to their desire,
Whilst others must cover their mouths,
And fold their arms in humble obeisance?
All the worlds are his possession;
That which moves all beings is his own movement.
He is father to all, and protector of all living things,
The Red Mountain Lord.
The mental suffering of those who speak of him
Will die away and disappear.
My heart! If you desire that medicine
Which is needed to cure the deep suffering
Of wandering from birth to death,
Pay no heed to the empty words of those that mock,
And speak but once the name of the Red Mountain Lord.
Mindful of the lotus foot of him,
Who, out of his love for us,
Wears the invincible poison as an ornament at his throat,
Stand firmly fixed in the exalted worship of Lord Siva,
Believing in accordance with the injunctions of the four Vedas,
Whose meaning is hard to speak.
Unapproachable Red Mountain Father,
Who stands immanent as my place of refuge,
When it is time for my painful struggles in the ocean of births to end,
You must come.
For when I reflect, there is no other like you to help a dog such as I.
My heart! Hold tightly to the feet of the Red Mountain Lord,
The pure one, who wears flowers and the crescent moon
Entwined in his hair,
And who shares his being with her who gave birth to the world.
If you do thus, death himself will fear to approach you.
His front foot deals out death to the Lord of the dead.
On his back foot the eye of Vishnu is ever displayed.
In his hand, of noble fame, he bears the head of Brahma.
He is the unapproachable Red Mountain Lord.
If anyone knows the equal of his ruddy shoulders' might,
Let him speak!
Effulgent light, difficult to describe! Sonagiri Father!
For those who do not take as the ultimate truth
Your advent upon this earth in the form of the Guru,
Everything they discover and learn will be in vain.
However many worthy books they study,
What good will come of it?
For those who choose not to follow
The path that leads to the lotus foot of the Red Mountain Lord,
Who joyfully wears at his throat the poison from the ocean of milk,
Will the ancient fetters of their former actions be sundered by learning?
Though nobly born, will their birth be any the less painful?
My foolish heart! Recite the five-lettered name of the First One,
The Red Mountain Lord, and meditate upon it.
Thus will the straight path, the steadfast condition,
And the marks of true knowledge become manifest to you.
Your every wish will be granted, and fulfilment will be yours.
A mind we have with which to think of him
And a tongue with which to speak.
For study, we have many Saiva Agamas.
But when we wish to worship the two feet of Lord Sonagiri,
That even the primordial Vedas cannot reach,
Our sins rise up high and block our way.
King of kings and greatest among the great!
Lord Sonagiri, whose glory is dear to our hearts!
You who ate the poison that the celestials, in fear, could not overcome!
There are those who number you as an equal among the gods.
How can this be?
Those who give no alms and know not how to speak soft words,
Those who do not describe him as:
'The one who in ancient times
Burned down the three cities of his enemies,
And at whose side sits Goddess Unnamulai.'
Those who wear not the holy ash,
What birth might they expect upon this earth?
I did not wear the holy ash
Nor did I think lovingly upon the five letters, and speak them out.
Yet did he not take upon himself the burden
Of making me his slave.
Wise Lord Sonagiri, he who wears the holy river in his matted locks,
And whose hand clasps the victorious axe.
Red Mountain Lord! My sin is that of failing
To diligently mediate upon your five-lettered name,
The seed that develops into the path of higher knowledge.
My recompense is to be born in a hellish birth,
And having been born, to die again.
My heart! Why do you keep on, day and night, mortifying your body?
By seeking refuge in Lord Sonagiri,
Our Father who delights in the deer,
The painful effect of our good and evil deeds will disappear.
If we fill our minds with thoughts of him,
What further need we do?
Unless we follow the command of the Red Mountain Lord,
What other task is there for us to do?
Although we may torture our minds through and through with
Thoughts and speculation,
Can we thereby attain in fullness to that greater life?
Can our mind fulfil our deepest yearning
By virtue of its own power.
Sonagiri Father! You who ride upon the bull!
You it is who are the goal of my austerities, and their fruit.
You are both father and mother to me.
And you it is who will draw me to the shelter to your holy feet,
So difficult to describe.
For those who, whilst living upon this earth,
Do not hold in their hearts
The thought of the five-faced one, Lord Sonagiri,
What is the good of going off to bathe in a thousand holy rivers,
Famed for granting the wishes of the righteous?
Even if they offer as many as sixteen charitable gifts on those banks,
What is the use of it?
My heart! You did not steadfastly practice austerities
Nor did you go to the temple
To perform puja and meritorious deeds in the name of Lord Siva.
Is it thus, without any effort, that you hope to reach
The lotus foot of the Father who grants victory,
The universal doer, the Red Mountain Lord? Speak!
My Heart! Neither Vishnu himself nor Brahma
Could perceive the foot of the Red Mountain Lord.
Can it then be reached so effortlessly?
What will you gain if you remain idle, merely recounting tales about him,
If he does not, in fitting manner, bestow his graceful thoughts upon you?
He who knocked out the teeth of the sun god!
Father of mighty Virabhadra, who on that day
Tore off the nose of the goddess Devi,
Wife to the lotus-dwelling Brahma!
He who is pleased to wear the crescent moon in his hair,
And who bears aloft the whitened skull of Brahma!
He, the Red Mountain Lord, will be here this very day.
Lord of the Red Mountain in whose wild locks the crescent moon
Is entwined among kondrai, punnai and erukku flowers!
When will they leave me,
The time-bound sorrows of past, present and future?
These thoughts indeed oppress me.
I have perceived the means of dissolving away
All the manifold maladies and sufferings
That beset my life unendingly, and crush me down.
I have taken into my heart the lotus foot of the Red Mountain Lord.
What then do I lack?
Nothing do we lack when we speak of him.
Professing our undying devotion to the ruler of the heavenly host,
We have taken refuge in him.
The king of the dead is powerless to pursue and take hold of us.
When we consider, my heart,
Ours is the victory over the spear that Yama flourishes in his hand.
The gods themselves who dwell on high
Performed puja and virtuous deeds at the lotus foot
Of the immaculate one, who drank the poison from the ocean of milk,
The Red Mountain Lord,
Whose breast is adorned with garlands of flowers.
And so doing did they cleave to the path that leads to all goodness.
That all beings must undergo birth and death, this we clearly know
Through the works of the masters of Tamil poetry.
That Lord Sonesan took birth in some dwelling,
This we have not heard.
Neither have we heard that he lived upon this wide earth,
Enjoyed its pleasure, and then passed away.
Those who do not praise and strew beautiful flowers
At the feet of the devotees of Lord Sonagiri
Who abides in supreme bliss,
They will live each day in fear of the cruel Lord of death,
Who stalks them like a vengeful huntsman.
Exalted Lord Sonagiri spoke to me,
Desolate and weak as I was, through fear of cruel death,
Saying: 'Do not be afraid!'
You who came as my Guru, in a form my heart could know,
And enslaved me,
The austerities of those who know you not,
They will be like earth heaped around the roots of a tree already dead.
Red Mountain Lord, he who cannot be numbered among those gods
Who are born upon this earth, die, and are destroyed!
I have but one request:
It is that I, your devotee, should never be parted from you.
May you grant me this.
Sovereign Lord who burnt the three cities of his foes!
You whose visible form is known as Aruneshan!
Having taken the form of my Guru,
Abolished the effects of my former deeds,
And raised me up to the estate of true reality,
May you grant me finally the grace of your two feet!
Lord Sonagiri! Performer of virtuous deeds,
Who, by drinking that poison, banished the fear of so many gods!
You it is who lift me up and protect me,
You it is who embrace me, and grant that I may embrace you,
And you it is who guard me from suffering.
May you look upon me this very moment.
When shall I cease to reject, and begin to feel compassion for
Those who entreat you, saying that for them
There is no today and no tomorrow?
When shall I reach the stage of offering them thrice-daily worship?
When shall I, fixing my thoughts on the immaculate one,
Lord Sonagiri, take him into my heart?
I have not thought of you.
Standing in the temple, I have not drenched my body
With tears streaming down from my eyes.
I have not sought the means of cutting through the bonds of birth.
Nor, praising you, Red Mountain Lord,
Have I adorned your beautiful feet
With garlands of flowers.
In the time to come, who will there be here to help me?
When we reflect, neither good nor evil can befall us
Without the knowledge of the great one, who bears a thousand names,
The unfathomable beatitude, Lord Sonagiri.
Be still then, my heart!
Knowing that all is in him.
The peerless five letters of our Lord of the Red Mountain,
The Supreme One who affords shelter to all living things,
Are they not a fitting remedy
To remove the effects of the good and evil deeds
Of those who keep their minds fixed steadfastly on him,
And to dispel their soul's poverty in this very birth?
'He it is who once cut off one of my five heads.
Today he could easily cut off the remaining four.'
Thus reflecting to himself will Brahma,
Fearing those who chant the sacred five letters,
Erase from their foreheads the marks of destiny.
Always does the Lord of death
Summon his messengers to him in a fitting manner,
And stand before them advising them thus:
'To those who have devoted themselves this day
To the worship of Lord Sonagiri, the Eternal One,
You should offer reverential greetings, and depart from there.'
For those who worship his beautiful foot,
The Red Mountain Lord, bestower of wisdom,
Will inspire devotion, impart true knowledge,
And confer final liberation.
Therefore take to yourself and praise the five letters
That dispel the evil effects of our deeds,
So difficult to allay.
Auspicious One! Wearer of the Ganges! Red Mountain Lord!
However you should wish to adorn yourself,
There are jewels and pearls most fitting,
And bright gold in abundance in which to set them.
But you, taking none of these, choose to bedeck yourself
With bones, an elephant's hide, and a rearing serpent.
Why is it so?
Wearer of the Ganges!
When will you lovingly summon me to your presence,
Mean wretch that I am?
When will you test our love, O Red Mountain Lord?
And having tested it, when will you set us upon the supreme path?
Taking into my heart as my Guru
The Red Mountain Lord, who now stands formless before me,
I have put to flight
The results of my good and evil deeds, impossible to describe,
My soul's threefold impurity
And my unparalleled suffering.
Exalted Red Mountain Lord! Regent of the heavenly host
Who abides in the hearts of those
Who never for an instant fall away from the path they have chosen!
The hearts of those who worship you
Will never slip back to their former state,
Nor, as a result of their good and evil deeds,
Will they ever become embroiled in the sevenfold round of births.
Except for the ineffable Lord Annamalai
And his consort Unnamulai, who sits at his Lordship's side,
I have known no other gods,
Or if I have know them,
I have never cherished them in my heart of hearts.
Except for those who in previous births
Thought of you with melting heart,
And meditated upon the Red Mountain Lord,
Will it be easy for anyone upon this earth
To witness in this lifetime your sacred dance,
Whose praises men of virtue sing?
For those who are without love for the Red Mountain Lord,
Who cleaves away falsehood and subjects us to his rule,
Will it be of any benefit to mortify the body?
Will our earthly bonds be severed by reciting weighty tomes?
Can a snake be killed simply by striking the termite hill in which it lives?
Lord who takes the holy form of the Red Mountain,
You have so ordained it upon this earth
That our bodies, which fill us with desire
And which we cherish as our own possession,
Will soon be claimed as carrion by the jackals.
Even knowing this, I have not curbed my desires,
I have not conquered my soul's thirst for the three impurities,
I have not come to know your greatness.
Virtuous one whom Vishnu could not see!
Lord Sonagiri who bears an eye on his forehead!
He who remains invisible even to the knowledge-giving Vedas!
I was born a poor wretch, spurning your holy feet,
And in pain do I wear this body,
Which is no better than a packet of rice to feed the jackals.
Lord Sonagiri by whose grace all virtue flourishes!
Paying homage to yourself, who were never born and can never die,
And to those whom you have made your slaves,
I did not honour the corruptible bodies
Of those gods who suffer birth and death.
Munificent Lord Sonagiri! For the sake of the gods,
You destroyed the three cities of the asuras,
And joyfully swallowed the poison from the ocean of milk.
Why is it then, that when Vishnu himself in the form of the boar
Desired to reach your lotus foot,
You stood as an unfathomable pillar of fire?
Eternal One who joyfully ate the poison from the ocean's depths!
Untasted ambrosia! Lord Sonagiri, my Master!
Father who rules over the earth!
For a wretch such as I, who wander aimlessly,
Knowing nothing of puja and meritorious deeds,
Who else is there to help me?
Red Mountain Lord who gives me support and sustenance!
To raise me up, protect me,
And deliver me from the suffering of birth and death,
You are the straight path.
Other than you, there is no one else to help me.
Immaculate One who wears the holy river in his matted locks!
Righteous One who grants upon this earth
All entreaties that are not uttered in falsehood!
When I reflect, Lord Sonagiri, abode of compassion!
Except for you, who else is there to break this long chain of births?
You who are compassion's abode!
In my final hours, as death approaches,
I shall not be able to worship your holy foot,
I shall not be able to call out to you, crying 'Red Mountain Lord!'
My mind will be unable to think of you,
And my eyes incapable of discerning your form,
And fixing their gaze upon it.
Unapproachable Red Mountain Lord,
Whom, though they sought him long,
Even the four Vedas could not find!
I did not meditate upon your two feet.
I knew nothing of how to address you;
To those who suffered, nothing did I give.
I am a poor wretch.
My heart will stay as it is, O Lord, and meets its ruin.
My Lord! The dance of a wooden puppet,
Is it a skill learned by the puppet itself?
Or is it due simply to the manipulation of the puppeteer?
Is my arduous fate of my own choosing,
Or is it by your will alone,
You who made me and watch over me?
Speak, O Red Mountain Lord!
Our Father, the Red Mountain Lord,
Who destroyed the three cities of those that did not honour him!
Like a great cloud of nectar he will come,
And pour forth a flood of bliss upon this earth,
That the living crop in the hearts of those devotees who call out to him, May not become parched and dry.