Poem 7

ஆகுவா கனனைத் தோகைவா கனனைஉற்றசீர் மகார்எனப் பெற்றசுந் தரனேஞானவா ரிதியில் ஆனஆ ரமுதேகற்றவர் கருதும் நற்றவக் கரும்பேஇருட்குறும் பெறிந்த அருட்கலா மதியேகதிர்த்தொகை குன்றா துதித்த செங்கதிரேநிறைந்தஅன் பலரின் உறைந்த செந்தேனேதுன்பமொன் றறியா இன்பவா ரிதியேமறைமுடி விளக்கும் சுடர்விடு மணியேவிறலரி பிரமன் பெறலரும் பொருளேசிற்பநூல் முழுதும் அற்பமின் றுணர்ந்தஓவியர் அற்புத மேவுகைத் தொழிலர்சுத்தவெண் படிகப் பித்திகைத் தலத்தின்நவமணி தெளித்துக் குவவின கூர்நுதித்தூரியங் கொண்டு சீரிதிற் குயிற்றும்இமைப்பிலா நாட்டத் தமைப்பருங் கலாபநீலமே காரமும் கோலமார் குயிலும்துப்பமர் வளைவாய் ஒப்பறு பச்சைத்தகைசிறைக் கிளியும் புகைநிறப் புறவும்மேல்நிமிர் தூவிப் பால்நிற அனமும்நன்மது நிகர்த்த இன்மொழிப் பூவையும்இனமெனக் கருதி மனமுவந் தணைத்தஉயிர்நிலை பெற்ற மயில்முதற் பறவையும்கூறுபட நோக்கினர் வேறுபா டறியாவளனொடு செறிந்த அளவிலா மாடத்துறைதரு கற்பு நிறைகுல மடவார்அளிமுரல் குழலும் ஒளிகிளர் முகமும்குலாவிய புருவமும் நிலாவிரி குழையும்நறியமென் சொல்லுஞ் சிறிய நுண்ணிடையும்தத்துநீர் உவரி முத்தமா லிகையும்பிரளய வெள்ளத் திரளினும் அழியாத்திருநகர் இதுவெனக் கருதிவான் முகிலும்சந்திர விம்பமும் இந்திர தனுவும்இலங்குசெங் கதிரும் துலங்குவா னமுதும்வாரா மின்னும் தாரா கணமும்ஒருங்குவந் திருந்த பெருந்திறன் ஏய்ப்பக்காட்சியிற் பொலிந்த மாட்சிமை சிறந்தகாழிநா யகனே வாழிபூ ரணனேஏர்தரும் பொற்கிரி சேர்கருங் கொடியும்பொன்னிற மாமெனச் சொன்னதொல் மொழியும்ஏதமில் நிறைமதிச் சீதள நிலவால்ஆரும்மெய் உருப்பம் தீரும் என்பதுவும்மொழிதரும் இரத குளிகைதற் சேர்ந்தகாளிமச் சீருண நீள்இயற் கனகமாமெனக் கூறும் தோமறு மொழியும்கருட தியானம் மருள்தப வந்தோர்நோக்கினில் தவிரும் தீக்கடு என்றலும்ஆயிரங் கிரணத் தலர்கதிர் முன்னம்பாயிருள் கெடுமெனப் பகர்பழ மொழியும்அங்கண்மா ஞாலத் தெங்கணும் ஒப்பஇயலும் பட்டாங் கயல்அல என்னல்சரதமெய்ஞ் ஞான வரதநிற் சேர்ந்தபேதையேன் பாசத் தீவினை அகற்றித்திருவருட் செல்வம் பெருகுமா றுதவிஅளித்தருள் பேரின் பாகும்களித்திடும் முத்திக் காழிவான் கனியே.

In plain words

O Beautiful One, who begot the rider of the rat and the rider of the peacock as your sons of fitting glory! O rare nectar that arose in the ocean of ñāṉam! O sugarcane of good penance, on which the learned meditate! O moon whose digits are aruḷ, who drove off the mischief of darkness! O red sun risen with your mass of rays undiminished! O red honey dwelling in the flower of full love! O ocean of bliss that knows no sorrow at all! O gem sending out rays, lighting the crown of the Vedas! O substance hard to gain even for mighty Viṣṇu and Brahmā! Painters who knew the whole of the ciṟpam treatises without the least lack, workers of handicraft full of wonder, spread the nine gems on walls of pure white crystal and finely paint with heaped, sharp-pointed brushes. There, with unblinking eyes, is the blue peacock, its plumage hard to make, and the lovely koel, the peerless green parrot with fine wings and curved beak of coral, the smoke-coloured dove, the milk-white swan with feathers raised upright, and the mynah whose sweet speech is like good honey. The living peacocks and other birds take them for their own kind and gladly embrace them, and those who look closely cannot tell the difference. In the countless mansions crowded with wealth dwell women of good family, full of chastity. They have tresses where bees hum, shining faces, curved brows, earrings spreading moonlight, fragrant soft words, small slender waists, and garlands of pearls from the sea of leaping water. It is as if the clouds of the sky, the disc of the moon, the bow of Indra, the shining red sun, the bright nectar of heaven, the long lightning, and the host of stars had all come together and stayed there, thinking, This is the holy city that does not perish even in the mass of the deluge flood. Such is the great feat it resembles. O Lord of Kāzhi, glorious to the sight, excellent in splendour, long may you live! O Perfect One! There is the ancient saying that the black crow that reaches the beautiful golden mountain becomes golden in colour. There is the saying that by the cool light of the flawless full moon the heat that fills the body ends. There is the faultless saying that when the mercury pill of which the books speak eats up the dark tarnish of the base metal joined to it, the metal becomes enduring gold. There is the saying that fiery poison ceases at the glance of those who have come to Garuḍa meditation without confusion. There is the old saying that spreading darkness perishes before the spreading sun of a thousand rays. That these hold good as the plain truth in every place of this wide great world alike, and are not otherwise, is certain. So, O giver of the boon of true ñāṉam! I am the foolish one who has come to you. Remove the evil viṉai of my pācam, help me so that the wealth of holy aruḷ may swell, and protect me in your grace, O lofty fruit of Kāzhi, the great bliss, the mutti that makes one rejoice!

Line by line

The one whose mount is the rat, the one whose mount is the peacock, as sons of fitting glory, O Beautiful One who begot them; O rare nectar that arose in the ocean of ñāṉam, O sugarcane of good penance on which the learned meditate, O moon of the digits of aruḷ that drove off the mischief of darkness, O red sun that rose with its mass of rays undiminished, O red honey that dwells in the flower that is full love, O ocean of bliss that knows no sorrow at all, O gem sending out rays that lights the crown of the Vedas, O substance hard to gain for mighty Viṣṇu and Brahmā; the whole of the śilpa treatises, without the least lack, they who knew painters, workers of handicraft full of wonder, on the surface of walls of pure white crystal, spreading the nine gems, with heaped and sharp-pointed brushes, finely paint: with unblinking eyes, the peacock of plumage hard to make, the blue peacock, and the lovely koel, with curved beak of coral, the peerless green parrot with fine wings, and the smoke-coloured dove, the milk-white swan with feathers raised upright, and the mynah of sweet speech like good honey, thinking them their own kind, gladly embraced them, the living peacocks and other birds; those who look closely cannot tell the difference; in the countless mansions crowded with wealth dwelling, the women of good family full of chastity: their tresses where bees hum, their shining faces, their curved brows, their earrings spreading moonlight, their fragrant soft words, their small slender waists, and the pearl garlands from the sea of leaping water; not perishing even in the mass of the deluge flood, thinking This is the holy city, the clouds of the sky, the disc of the moon, the bow of Indra, the shining red sun, and the bright nectar of the sky, the long lightning, the host of stars, as if, all coming together, they stayed: like that great feat, glorious to the sight, excellent in splendour, O Lord of Kāzhi, long may you live, O Perfect One! the black crow that reaches the beautiful golden mountain becomes golden in colour, the ancient saying that tells it, and that by the cool light of the flawless full moon the heat that fills the body ends, the saying too, that the mercury pill spoken of, of what is joined to it, as it eats up the mass of dark tarnish, the long-enduring gold it becomes, the faultless saying that says it, that by the glance of those who have come to Garuḍa meditation without confusion fiery poison ceases, the saying, before the spreading sun of a thousand rays the spreading darkness perishes, the old saying that tells it: in all places of this wide great world alike holding good, the plain truth; that they are not otherwise, the saying is certain; O giver of the boon of true ñāṉam, joined to you, of me, the foolish one, removing the evil viṉai of pācam, helping so that the wealth of holy aruḷ may swell, protect me in grace; the great bliss that it is, the mukti that makes one rejoice, O lofty fruit of Kāzhi!

Also in: Who Śiva is · Songs of praise