திருவளர் பவளப் பெருவரை மணந்தமரகத வல்லி போல ஒருகூறிமையச் செல்வி பிரியாது விளங்கப்பாய்திரைப் பரவை மீமிசை முகிழ்த்தஅலைகதிர்ப் பரிதி ஆயிரந் தொகுத்தவரன்முறை திரியாது மலர்மிசை இருந்தெனக்கதிர்விடு நின்முகங் காண்தொறுங் காண்தொறும்முதிரா இளமுலை முற்றாக் கொழுந்தின்திருமுகத் தாமரை செவ்வியின் மலரநின்தையல் வாணுதல் தெய்வச் சிறுபிறைஇளநிலாக் காண்தொறும் ஒளியொடும் புணர்ந்தநின்செவ்வாய்க் குமுதஞ் செவ்வி செய்யநின்செங்கைக் கமலம் மங்கை வனமுலைஅமிர்த கலசம் அமைவின் ஏந்தமலைமகள் தனாது நயனக் குவளைநின்பொலிவினொடு மலர மறையோர்கழுமல நெறிநின்று பொலியநாகர் நாடு மீமிசை மிதந்துமீமிசை உலகங் கீழ்முதல் தாழ்ந்திங்கொன்றா வந்த குன்றா வெள்ளத்துலகம்மூன் றுக்குங் களைகண் ஆகிமுதலில் காலம் இனிதுவீற் றிருந்துழித்தாதையொடு வந்த வேதியச் சிறுவன்தளர்நடைப் பருவத்து வளர்பசி வருத்தஅன்னா யோவென் றழைப்பமுன் னின்றுஞான போனகத் தருளட்டிக் குழைத்தஆனாத் திரளை அவன்வயின் அருளஅந்தணன் முனிந்து தந்தார் யார் எனஅவனைக் காட்டுவன் அப்ப வானார்தோஒ டுடைய செவியன் என்றும்பீஇ டுடைய பெம்மான் என்றும்கையில் சுட்டிக் காட்டஐயநீ வெளிப்பட் டருளினை ஆங்கே.
In plain words
Like an emerald creeper that has embraced a great coral mountain where beauty grows, the lady of the Himalaya shines as one part of you, never parting from you. As if a thousand suns of rippling rays, blossoming high above the sea of surging waves, had gathered and sat upon a flower without straying from their due order, your face sends out its rays. Each time, each time she sees it, the lotus of her lovely face opens in its fresh beauty, she the tender shoot whose young breasts have not ripened, the shoot not yet full grown. Your lady's bright brow is a divine little crescent. Each time its young moonlight is seen, the water lily of your red mouth, joined with radiance, takes on its fresh beauty. The lotus of your red hand fittingly holds the lady's lovely breast, a pot of nectar. The blue lily of the mountain's daughter's eye opens with your splendour. The keepers of the Veda flourish, standing in the way of Kazhumalam. While the land of the celestials floated up on high and the upper worlds sank down from their foundations, here in the undiminished flood that came on as one, you became the refuge of all three worlds, and through time without beginning you sat enthroned at your ease. Then came a little brahmin boy with his father. He was at the age of tottering steps, and as his hunger grew and pained him he called out, "O mother!" There stood before him one who kneaded grace into the food of ñāṉam and graciously gave him that never-failing morsel. The brahmin grew angry and asked, "Who gave it?" "I shall show him, father," said the boy. "The heavenly one, he of the ear with the earring," he said, and "the Lord who has glory," pointing with his hand to show him. And there, Lord, you graciously appeared.
Line by line
that has embraced the great coral mountain where beauty grows, the emerald creeper, like; one portion as one part, the lady of the Himalaya shining without parting; blossomed high above the sea of surging waves, the suns with rippling rays, a thousand gathered, not swerving from right order, as though they sat upon a flower, your face that sends out rays: each time she sees it, each time she sees it, with young breasts not ripened, of the shoot not full grown, the lotus of her lovely face blossoms in its freshness; your lady's bright brow, a divine little crescent, each time its young moonlight is seen, joined with radiance, your red mouth, a water lily, takes on fresh beauty; your red hand, a lotus, the lady's lovely breast, a pot of nectar, fittingly holding; the mountain's daughter's own eye, a blue lily, with your splendour blooming; the keepers of the Veda standing in the way of Kazhumalam, flourishing; the land of the celestials floating high above, the upper worlds sinking down from their foundations, here in the undiminished flood that came as one, to the three worlds, being their refuge, in time without beginning, when you sat enthroned at ease, the little brahmin boy who came with his father, at the age of tottering steps, as growing hunger pained him, when he called, O mother, standing before him, the food of ñāṉam into which grace was poured and kneaded, the never-failing morsel graciously given to him, the brahmin, angered, saying, Who gave it, I shall show him, father: the heavenly one, He of the ear with the earring, saying, and The Lord who has glory, saying, and pointing with his hand, as he showed, Lord, you graciously appeared, there.