रामानुजीये विश्वासटिप्पन्यः

Her mother says, “My daughter never used to worry about anything. Now she worries always and says ‘O Venkaṭam, O Venkaṭam!’ She refuses to come and lie on my lap. She forgets to sleep closing her long sword-like eyes. What did the beloved of Lakshmi, born in the milky ocean, do to my daughter? The precious god with the beautiful dark color of a bee or a cloud lies on Adisesha on the ocean with rolling waves. He is life for the gods in the sky. What has he done to my daughter? I never thought she would be upset like this.”
Her mother says, “My daughter’s dress has become loose around her waist. The bangles on her hand slide down. She says to the god, ‘I am your slave. Will you sell me to others? Will you keep me as your slave or will you not?’ He, the god of the Thiruvenkaṭam hills, the chief of the gods in the sky, destroyed the seven mara trees with his bow and conquered the Asurans. See what he has done to my daughter! I never thought this could happen.”
Her mother says, “O friends, my daughter has the soft eyes of a doe. Her long sword-like eyes are filled with tears. Her bangles are growing loose. She is always talking about the beauty of his fragrant thulasi garland that drips honey and she doesn’t sleep. He, the son of Nandagopan, is a cowherd and wanders in the forest. He enters guarded houses, steals yogurt and butter and eats them. See what he has done to my daughter! I don’t understand.”
Her mother says, “My daughter doesn’t listen to me, her mother. She doesn’t play with her friends. She doesn’t decorate her round soft breasts with sandal paste. She keeps asking, ‘Where is Thiruvarangam of my lord?’ He, the Māyan, drank milk from the breasts of Putanā, the devil, and swallowed the whole earth into his large stomach. O friends, I can’t describe all the trouble he has given to my daughter. There is no limit to it.”
Her mother says, “She doesn’t decorate her breasts with sandal paste. She doesn’t put kohl on her eyes that are like fighting fish. She doesn’t want to play with her puvai bird. She doesn’t want anything. She keeps asking, ‘Where is Thiruvarangam of my lord?’ We know that he, our Nambi, the beloved of Lakshmi, was raised in a cowherd village. O friends, he is a strong man. I don’t know what he has done to my daughter.”
Her mother says, “She keeps saying, ‘Won’t he give me his beautiful fresh pollen-filled garland?’ She wants it so much she grows weak. See, if I say something she only answers, ‘Thiruvarangam of my lord.’ He, the beloved of the goddess Lakshmi, danced on a pot. He killed the Asuran Madhu and he went as a messenger for the Pandava kings. How can I describe the trouble he has given to my daughter?”
Her mother says, “She doesn’t worry that her young breasts circled with a band have become pale. If she begins to say anything, she only repeats the divine names of the highest god. She is the daughter I gave birth to. What can I do? He is decorated with garlands and rules beautiful Kuḍandai. He became the charioteer for the Pandavas in the war. How can I describe all the trouble he has given to my daughter?”
Her mother says, “Many people gossip about her. They say she doesn’t want to have any connection with her family. She doesn’t forget to say always, ‘You are the Māyavan. You are Madhavan.’ Generous and without births, he, the beloved of young girls, the virtuous king of the earth, gives all the boons that the gods in the sky ask for. O friends, I don’t understand what he has done to my daughter.”
Her mother says, “She doesn’t want to play with balls and molucca beans. She doesn’t want to feed milk to her parrot. She doesn’t want to carry her doll. She grows tired as she keeps saying, ‘Did the god of Thiruvarangam come to me? Won’t he come to me?’ and her bangles grow loose. He is praised by the Chandogya Upanishad and the Rig Veda and worshiped by the sages who make sacrifices with five types of fire. He is praised in the Taittiriya Upanishad and in the Sāma Veda. O my dear ones, he came to see my daughter and I don’t know what he has done to her.
Kaliyan with a sharp spear, who is Yama for his enemies, composed ten Tamil poems about how a mother worries about her beautiful daughter with eyes like neelam flowers because she fell in love with the god of Thiruvarangam surrounded by fields where fish frolic. If devotees learn and recite these ten pāsurams, they will rule this earth under a royal umbrella decorated with pearl garlands and go and live in the golden world of heaven.