In plain words
Weighing what virtue did He come, that day, to protect Prahlāda, the Supreme Person? Weighing what virtue did He come, that day, at the hour He saved the elephant, the lotus-eyed One? Weighing what virtue did He come, that day, to cherish the boy Dhruva, in the fullness of His assurance? Weighing what virtue did He come, that day, bearing it patiently to protect Emperor Bali? Weighing that same virtue, He whom the immortals adore, He who protects the afflicted, Śrīnivāsa, the one Consciousness of all the worlds, has shone forth today on the earth as the Lord of Parti.
With the digit of the crescent moon gleaming on His crown, with His splendid cluster of matted locks, with the lustre of the heavenly river flowing in those locks, with the proud eye upon His forehead, with a throat as dark as the dark nēreḍu fruit, with a serpent bracelet on His wrist, with the elephant's hide wound about His waist, with ash smeared over all His body, grown glorious in the six śāstras, laughing the dark lilies to scorn and robbing them of their beauty, with His body of gleaming dusky hue, He who dwells in Praśānti has appeared today before our eyes.
The body is made of the five elements; the body must fall, sooner or later; the indweller is free of all ill; consider it well: for the indweller, death and birth, and the seals of the bonds that delusion ties, there are none, if you see the truth; that indweller is the God of gods, if you mark it in your mind: He is the Ātma itself.
Embodiments of Prema!
Whose is the body? The mother's, who bore it? The father's, who reared it? Or the grandfather's, who fathered the mother? It is no one's. It is merely an inert pot of clay. Thinking this body of clay to be ourselves, we are forgetting today the principle of the Ātma, which is Satya. You are not the body; you are its indweller. You are not the frame of flesh; you are the one who dwells in it; you are not the field; you are the knower of the field. Today we are dedicating our lives to deeds that make unholy this eternal Ātma, this indweller who is Satya, this sacred field. Every kind of sorrow that befalls man comes from attachment to the body alone. Thinking this worthless body, a bubble on the water, to be “I”, man is bound to sorrow by this possessiveness and by attachment. He cannot recognise the Satya that it is merely inert.
And yet, with this Ātma as the support, God has set in the body, the thing it supports, certain means of experiencing the world.