சதுர்முகன் தந்தைக்குக் கதிர்விடு கடவுள்ஆழி கொடுத்த பேரருள் போற்றிமுயற்சியொடு பணிந்த இயக்கர்கோ னுக்குமாநிதி இரண்டும் ஆனாப் பெருவளத்தளகை ஒன்றும் தளர்வின்றி நிறுவியசெல்வங் கொடுத்த செல்வம் போற்றிதாள்நிழல் அடைந்த மாணிக் காகநாண்முறை பிறழாது கோண்முறை வலித்துப்பதைத்துவருங் கூற்றைப் படிமிசைத் தெறிக்கஉதைத்துயிர் அளித்த உதவி போற்றிகுலைகுலை குலைந்த நிலையாத் தேவர்படுபேர் அவலம் இடையின்றி விலக்கிக்கடல்விடம் அருந்தின கருணை போற்றிதவிராச் சீற்றத் தவுணர் மூவெயில்ஒல்லனல் கொளுவி ஒருநொடி பொடிபடவில்லொன்று வளைத்த வீரம் போற்றிபூமென் கரும்பொடு பொடிபட நிலத்துக்காமனைப் பார்த்த கண்ணுதல் போற்றிதெய்வ யாளி கைமுயன்று கிழித்தெனக்கரியொன் றுரித்த பெருவிறல் போற்றிபண்டு பெரும்போர்ப் பார்த்தனுக் காகக்கொண்டு நடந்த கோலம் போற்றிவிரற்பதம் ஒன்றில் வெள்ளிமலை எடுத்தஅரக்கனை நெரித்த ஆண்மை போற்றிவிலங்கல் விண்டு விழுந்தென முன்னாள்சலந்தரற் றடிந்த தண்டம் போற்றிதாதையை எறிந்த வேதியச் சிறுவற்குப்பரிகலங் கொடுத்த திருவுளம் போற்றிநின்முதல் வழிபடத் தன்மகன் தடிந்ததொண்டர் மனையில் உண்டல் போற்றிவெண்ணெய் உண்ண எண்ணுபு வந்துநந்தா விளக்கை நுந்துபு பெயர்த்ததாவுபுல் எலிக்கு மூவுல காளநொய்தினில் அளித்த கைவளம் போற்றிபொங்குளை அழல்வாய்ப் புகைவிழி ஒருதனிச்சிங்கங் கொன்ற சேவகம் போற்றிவரிமிடற் றெறுழ்வலி மணியுகு பகுவாய்உரகம் பூண்ட ஒப்பனை போற்றிகங்கையுங் கடுக்கையுங் கலந்துழி ஒரு பால்திங்கள் சூடிய செஞ்சடை போற்றிகடவுள் இருவர் அடியும் முடியும்காண்டல் வேண்டக் கனற்பிழம் பாகிநீண்டு நின்ற நீளம் போற்றிஆலம் பில்குநின் சூலம் போற்றிகூறுதற் கரியநின் ஏறு போற்றிஏக வெற்பன் மகிழும் மகட்கிடப்பாகங் கொடுத்த பண்பு போற்றிதில்லை மாநகர் போற்றி தில்லையுட்செம்பொன் அம்பலம் போற்றி அம்பலத்தாடும் நாடகம் போற்றி என்றாங்கென்றும் போற்றினும் என்தனக் கிறைவஆற்றல் இல்லை ஆயினும்போற்றி போற்றிநின் பொலம்பூ அடிக்கே.
In plain words
Praise to your great aruḷ, which gave the divine discus that sheds its rays to the father of the four-faced one! Praise to the wealth of your grace that gave wealth: to the king of the Yakṣas, who bowed with striving, you gave the two great treasures, and Alakā too, city of unfailing great abundance, you established never to falter. Praise to the help you gave the youth who reached the shade of your feet: when Death came rushing, never swerving from the reckoning of days and forcing the rule of seizing, you kicked him to fling him on the ground and gave the youth life. Praise to the compassion that drank the poison of the sea, removing without delay the great grief that befell the unsteady gods, trembling and trembling. Praise to the valour that bent a single bow, set quick fire to the three forts of the asuras of unceasing rage, and in one moment turned them to dust. Praise to the brow-eye that looked on Kāma, so that he fell to dust on the ground with his soft flowers and his sugarcane. Praise to the great might that flayed an elephant, as if a divine yāḷi had torn it with the strength of its hand. Praise to the guise you took and walked in long ago, for Pārtha's sake, in the great battle. Praise to the manliness that crushed with the tip of one toe the demon who lifted the silver mountain. Praise to the punishment that in former days cut down Jalandhara, as if a mountain had split and fallen. Praise to the sacred heart that gave your own food vessel to the brahmin boy who struck his father. Praise to your eating in the house of the devotee who cut down his own son so that he might worship your feet. Praise to the open hand that easily gave the rule of the three worlds to a lowly leaping rat, which came intent on eating ghee and nudged and moved the undying lamp. Praise to the valour that killed the one solitary lion, with swelling mane, mouth of fire and smoking eyes. Praise to the adornment of the serpent you wear, with striped throat, fierce strength and gaping mouth that drops gems. Praise to the red matted hair that wears the moon on one side, where Gaṅgā and the kaṭukkai mingle. Praise to the length with which you stood stretching out as a mass of fire, when two gods wished to see your feet and your crown. Praise to your trident dripping poison! Praise to your bull, hard to describe! Praise to the kindness that gave the left half to the daughter in whom the lord of the peerless mountain delights. Praise to the great city of Tillai! Praise to the red-gold Hall within Tillai! Praise to the drama danced in the Hall! Lord, even if I praise you thus forever, I have not the power for it. Yet praise, praise to your golden flower feet!
Line by line
To the father of the four-faced one, the ray-shedding divine discus that gave, the great grace: praise! To the king of the Yakṣas who bowed with striving the two great treasures and, of unfailing great abundance, Alakā too, without faltering, established, the wealth, your grace, that gave wealth: praise! For the youth who reached the shade of the feet, the order of days not swerving, forcing the order of seizing, Death coming in haste, to fling on the ground kicking, giving life, the help: praise! Trembling and trembling, the unsteady gods, the great grief they suffered, removing without delay, the compassion that drank the sea poison: praise! Of the asuras of unceasing rage, the three forts setting quick fire, in one moment to dust, the valour that bent one bow: praise! With soft flowers and sugarcane, to dust on the ground, the brow-eye that looked at Kāma: praise! As if a divine yāḷi tore with the effort of its hand, the great might that flayed an elephant: praise! Long ago, in the great battle, for Pārtha's sake, the guise you took and walked in: praise! With the tip of one toe, the one who lifted the silver mountain, the demon, the manliness that crushed him: praise! As if a mountain split and fell, in former days the punishment that cut down Jalandhara: praise! To the brahmin boy who struck his father your food vessel that gave, the sacred heart: praise! To worship your feet, who cut down his own son, in the devotee's house, the eating: praise! To eat ghee, intending, coming, the undying lamp nudging and moving, to the leaping lowly rat, to rule the three worlds, easily given, the open hand: praise! With swelling mane, fire mouth, smoking eyes, one solitary lion, the valour that killed it: praise! With striped throat, fierce strength, gem-dropping gaping mouth, the serpent worn, the adornment: praise! Where Gaṅgā and kaṭukkai mingle, on one side the moon worn, the red matted hair: praise! Two gods, the feet and the crown, as they wished to see, becoming a mass of fire, the length that stood stretching: praise! Your trident dripping poison: praise! Your bull hard to describe: praise! To the daughter the lord of the peerless mountain delights in, the left half giving, the kindness: praise! Great city Tillai: praise! Within Tillai the red-gold Hall: praise! In the Hall the drama danced: praise! So saying, thus, even if I praise forever, for me, O Lord, there is no power; yet, praise, praise to your golden flower feet!