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I bow and praise him, the wise Thirumāl, a treasure, a coral pillar, my fate. He killed Kamsan to protect the world. If the devotees think of him as a true path, he will give them moksha, and I am his devotee and he has entered my heart. I will not leave him.
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The lord is the earth, wind, water, fire, the sky, a beautiful shining jewel, nectar, a river of joy for his devotees, Yama for the Asuras and he stays in the Himalayas. He is as strong as a bull and he destroyed Lanka surrounded with protected walls. O heart, think of the divine nature of the lord and praise him, praise him.
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Our father, the highest, churned the wide milky ocean using large Mandara mountain as a churning stick and the snake Vasuki as a rope, took nectar from it and gave it to the gods. I worship the young god of Thirumālirunjolai filled with thick bamboo groves where the rays of the sun cannot go.
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I long to see in my dreams the sweet lord with the color of a dark Kāyām flower. He took the form of a boar and brought the earth goddess from beneath the earth. I worship him with words and praise him with devotion, thinking of him with love in my mind and caring.
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He is like hot iron and my love for him is like water poured on it as he takes my love inside him. His love is like sugarcane juice for me . I have become a slave for the sweet one and I am saved.
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He, the god of Kuḍandai shining like a pile of diamonds, is the first one among all the three gods, the king of the whole world, sweet poetry, fresh honey and pure gold and the flowers that adorn the hair of the gods in the sky. What can his devotees say to praise him?
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The lord of Srirangam, surrounded by flourishing water is this birth, future births, moksha and truth for his devotees. Bowing my head, I worship the devotees of the dark faultless lord who think of the wonderful nature of the unique god of Thiruvenkaṭam.
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Thirumal, colored like a cloud in the sky, is the honey that bees make in the hills, sugarcane juice and a treasure. If devotees do not embrace him and live they do not realize that their human birth is a waste. If the devotees think of him always they will find happiness in their lives.
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My heart, confused and unable to stay on one thought, suffers like an ant on a torch burning at both end. You are wise, the god of the gods in the sky, the light that swallowed the whole world. I have no help but you for all my seven births.
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You are my father, a pearl, a shining emerald, with the color of a cloud shining with lightning and roaring with thunder. My mind is not steady—what can I do? I have done bad karma. Give me your grace and tell me what should I do to love you with devotion. You are my lord and I know nothing except being a slave for you and loving you with devotion.
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O father, give me your grace so that I may serve you, praise you and worship your feet. You are the world, the ancient god of all eight directions, justice and the highest light. Take away all my worries. I will praise only you.
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You, the life of all, stay in Srirangam. When I, your impure devotee, was afraid because I have done bad karma and I worried how I am going to escape its results, you, the kāvi-flower-colored lord came, entered my heart and said, “Do not be afraid.”
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My eyes rejoiced seeing the god, sweet as sugarcane, of Srirangam surrounded with groves where bees swarm. Just as water sprinkled on iron dries up, my sorrows and karma have gone away.
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I, a sinner, always thought of embracing women whose beautiful eyes vanquish Kāvi flowers, plunged into my desires and was destroyed without thinking of you, god of Kuḍanthai surrounded with water where swans that have beautiful feathers live.
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Hanuman, your messenger, went to Lanka, burned Rāvaṇa’s Lanka surrounded with strong walls, came back and bowed devotedly to Rama’s feet. Even though I cannot do what he did, I am your devotee. With my bones melting, I take the water of knowledge with the love that is my heart and bathe you in it.
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Our lord killed the Rakshasa Mārisan when he came as a magical deer, walked between the marudam trees and destroyed the two Asurans, measured the world and the sky with his feet at Mahābali’s sacrifice, and churned the milky ocean, took the nectar from it and gave it to the gods in the sky. I, his devotee, adorn my dear lord with a pure beautiful garland made of my praise.
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If devotees praise the compassion of the generous lord they will not be born again. The world says that even those devotees who, like Sisupālan, scolded him were saved by him and reached moksha. Though I am ignorant and have many desires, I praise him and do not scold him because I do not want to be born again. I have abundant love for him and wish to join the lord whose color is like the wave-filled ocean. .
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If someone removes the weakness that comes from ignorance and egoism and closes his eyes and controls the desires of the five senses, loving only him and not letting his thoughts wander, he will see the shining light that is truly the lord.
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When the skull of the Nānmuhan on the lotus was stuck to Shiva’s hand and he wandered among houses begging for food, our lord removed the curse of Shiva and made it fall off. If devotees go to Thirukkaṇḍiyur, Srirangam, Thirumeyyam, Thirukkachi, Thirupperur and Thirukkaḍalmallai, and worship him, they will be saved. How can others be saved if they do not worship him?
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Kaliyan with a strong spear composed a beautiful garland of twenty Tamil pasurams on our lovely-eyed lord. Indra, the king of gods and Nānmuhan who stays on a lotus worship his feet every day, sprinkling flowers that drip with honey. If devotees learn and recite these twenty pasurams faultlessly they will go to the bright sky and rule there.