रामानुजीये विश्वासटिप्पन्यः

She says, “My heart went to the lord who removed the chains from the ankles of his father Nandagopan. I am waiting to receive his divine grace. The moon, the king of the night, sends his cool rays as sweet as nectar and burns me and the soft breeze comes and blows over my beautiful breasts. They never cease giving me pain.”
She says, “ My heart, longing for the garland on his divine chest, has gone to him who is the younger brother of white-colored Balarama but has the color of a cloud and the dark ocean. There is no one here to help me now. The village sleeps and the world too. The chariot of the shining sun has disappeared from the sky and there is no light to be seen anywhere in the night. I don’t know what to do.”
She says, “The bangles on my arms have grown loose and fallen. Is this because of the magic of that cowherd who drank the milk of the female devil when he was a child? How could he have compassion on us? The rays of the pure beautiful moon burn me, and I have no one to help. My breasts pain and my heart suffers listening to the music of the flute of the cowherd. There is no one to comfort me and say, ‘Do not be afraid.’”
She says, “The young god who blew his white conch on the terrible battlefield where mighty ankleted enemy kings grew confused as they rode on wounded elephants in the Bharatha war has not come to see me and the breeze that carries fire-like dew touches my young breasts. My life will be mine only if this breeze stops blowing.”
She says, “The lord who shot his arrows, making holes in seven trees, carried a discus in his hand, fought with the Rākshasas and destroyed Lanka promised me that he would come but he has not come. The day is gone. O friend, what can we do? We have no one to help. The sun sets over the deep ocean in the evening and my life plunges into the pain of love and kills me.”
She says, “The young lord who bent his bow and shot his fiery arrows, destroying Lanka surrounded by the ocean with its rolling waves, has not come to see me. What can I do? The hot sun that burned me has gone to sleep and I am pitiful. My long eyes do not close and this dark night is longer than an eon. When will it pass? I do not know.”
She says, “Our dear lord who built a bridge, crossed the ocean, fought with Rāvaṇa the king of Lanka in a terrible war and terrified the Rākshasas has not come to see me. The hot shining sun, the crescent moon and the sound of the cowbells all bring me sorrow, and even the music of the cowherd’s flute gives me pain. The night is longer than an eon. I don’t know when it will pass.”
She says, “Kaṇṇan the brother of the sage Balaraman who became angry at the unjust enemy kings and killed them with his mazhu weapon has not come to see me. The male bird with beautiful wings embraces his mate shivering in the terrible dew dripping everywhere. Is there anything more cruel than the loneliness I have on this dark night? I don’t know what bad karma I must have done to suffer like this. The young god I love so much has not come.”
She says, “I had a dream that the god of Thirukkaṇṇapuram surrounded with strong walls came to me and made my heart joyful. When I think of it my bangles grow loose. Now it is night! The sound of the small bells of the bulls pains my heart and the sorrowful sound of the andril bird keeps me awake and kills me. I must have done much bad karma.”
Kaliyan the chief of Thirumangai surrounded by beautiful cloud-covered groves composed pāsurams describing the love pain of a young woman whose soft breasts are tied with a band, how she prattled in her love for the ocean-colored lord. If devotees learn and sing these pāsurams, they will reach beautiful Vaikuṇṭam and stay with the gods.