There is a famous saying "திருவாசகத்துக்கு உருகார் ஒரு வாசகத்திற்கும் உருகார்" (He whose heart is not melted by. Your browser does not currently recognize any of the video formats available. Click here to visit our frequently asked questions about HTML5 video. Appears in Collections: Books - TAMIL SANGAM LITERATURE Thiruvasagam (English Version) - G.U. Pope Manicka medical-site.info, kB, Adobe PDF.
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Thiruvasagam is considered as holy book and treasure of "Saivarn' which contains one of the doctrines of 'Saiva Siddhantham. Saivam is the way of life that . i want thiruvasagam in pdf. can i download it? medical-site.info devotional-books/medical-site.info#post Thiruvasagam - Lord Shiva - Tamil eBook: Manikkavasagar: medical-site.info: Kindle Store. Kindle App Ad. Look inside this book. Thiruvasagam - Lord Shiva - Tamil .
O Caivan, -praise! Our Chief, I praise! Our Sign, I praise! Virtue, I praise! ThouWay, I praise! O Thought, I praise! King, easy of access to others, praise! Monarch in grace, Who savest lest we sink In hell's hated one-and-twenty rounds, I praise! My Helper,-praise! My Treasure,praisc! O free from bonds,praisc!
First One,praise! Thou One, transcending word and understanding,praise! Yield of the world girt by the extended sea, praise! Eye like an azure cloud, I praise! Abiding Mount of sacred grace, I praise! Sea of imperishable rapture, praise , Thou dost transcend all forms that pass and come renewed, praise!
First One surpassing all, praise! Bridegroom of Her with fawnlike eyes, praise! Fivefold Thou dost in earth extend,-praise! Fourfold Thou dost exist in the water,-praise! Threefold in fire Thou shinest,-praise! Twofold in the air Thou art all glorious, -praise! Ambrosia of the troubled mind,praise! Hard to be approached by gods e'en in a dream,praise! In waking hour to me a cur Thou gavest grace,praise! Father, Who dwell'st in Idai-maruthu,praise!
King in ArUr abiding,praise!
Lord of glorious Tiru-aiyAru,praise! Our Prince of AnnAmalai,praise! Sea of ambrosia, filling all the place,- praise! Thou Who in form art half a woman,-praise! Who dwell'st supreme in Perun-turrai,-praise! Civan Who dwell'st in Sira-palli,-praise! None other refuge here I know, -praise! Our King dwelling in GOkazi, praise! Our Father of IngOy's Mount, praise!
Beauteous One of seemly Paranam, praise! Idangan Who dwell'st in KadambUr, praise! Beneath the Itti tree to six, King, Thou wert gracious, and to th' elephant,-praise! Civan, Lord of the southern land,praise!
King of our country folk,-praise! Lord of glorious Kailai's Mountpraise! Father, Who grants us grace,-praise! King, Who our darkness dissipates,-praise! I Thy slave languish all alone,-praise! Poison became ambrosis by Thy love,-praise!
Pure One,-praise! Existent One,-praise! O Great One,-praise! O Lord,-praise! O Rare One,-praise! O Pure One,-praise! Glorious Path of Vedic sages,-praise! I make my plaint,nor can endure, O First One,-praise!
O Cloud,-praise! O Bridegroom, praise! Spouse of Her whose feet are soft,-praise! I, a cur, Thy slave am perplexed,-praise! Eye apprehending forms diverse,-praise! King, dwelling in the circling, sacred town, I praise! Lord of the mountain land,-praise! Thou in Whose locks is the crescent moon,-praise! Aran of hilly PUvanam,-praise! Formless, in form revealed Thou art,-praise! Mountain of mercy ever nigh,-praise! Light transcending utmost bound,-praise! Ray of the flawless Gem, praise!
Loving to those Thou mak'et Thine own,-praise! Ambrosial grace that satiates not,-praise! Our Lord, the bearer of a thousand names,-praise! Dancer in light expanding far,-praise! O Beauteous with the santhal wood perfume,-praise! Bliss, hard for thought to reach,-praise! On Mandira's mighty mount Thou dwell'st,-praise! Thou Who in grace didst give the tiger's dug to th' antelope,-praise! Thou Who didst walk upon the billowy sea,-praise!
I hou didst give grace that day to the black bird,-praise! Thou didst appear by sense discerned,-praise! Thou art the First, the Midst, the Last,-praise! Thou that fillest all, to Thee be praise! God, garlanded with purple lotus flower, to Thee be praise! Thou dost cut off bewilderment of those that worship Thee,-praise! Take in grace this wreath of babbling words From me, mere cur, that know not to distinguish false from true!
Infinite Lord of splendours infinite,-praise! Ancient-cause of all! Triumphant praise! Introduction to the Sacred Cento This remarkable poem contains a hundred especially flowing and harmonious verses of varying metres. These are divided into ten decades, and the whole are connected by the law which requires that the last word of each verse shall begin the following verse.
The whole ten lyrics with their hundred verses are thus linked together. This arrangement, which is very common in Tamil, is called AnthAthi, which I venture to translate 'anaphoretic verse'. This cento is intended to exhibit the progress of the soul through the successful stages of religious experience till it loses itself in the rapture of complete union with the Supreme.
The general titile given by one editor is equivalent to 'The Varying Phases of Religious Enthusiasm' at least this is the nearest expression for it that I can find in English. The poem is supposed to have been composed in Tiru-peran-turai immediately after the departure of the Saints, for some time MAnikka-VAcagar's companions, who passed through fire and went home to Civan.
From the border of the tank, where the divine conflagration had arisen, into he midst of which his companions had thrown themselves, he returned to the Kondral tree, where he spent a long period in solitary meditation, of which these poems are the sum.
He surveys his past experiences, contemplates the work assigned him and while he begins the series of sacred poems by which he was to establish the Caiva system n the hearts of his fellow-countrymen, he never ceases to complain in most touching language, that he is not permitted at once to follow his Master and brethren into the rest and glory of Paradise.
This is indeed the burthen of much of his poetry. The titles of the ten decades, into which the poem is divided, indicate in some measure the course of his thoughts and the character of his mental conflicts. There is a most pathetic alternation of rapturous and realising devotion with coldness and apathy, and even, it seems of temporary abandonment to gross sensuality. It is to be doubted whether the whole of these verses are of one period, and I should prefer to think that they really embody his meditations and solloquies up to the period of his final settlement in Cithambaram.
DECAD 1. Humble access to the New Master. He accepts the ascetic life. He is despised as a mad enthusiast. Transcendent Good! Owner and Sire! Thy servant melting thinks on Thee. In raptures meet I utter forth my fever'd soul's ecstatic joys, Still wandering from town to town; while men cry out, 'A madman this;' And each one speaks, with mind distraught, discordant words.
O, when come death? None to be worshipped but Civan. Erewhile was Dakshan's offering death. They ate the flesh, and poison feared ' Our Father,' cried our friends and worshipt Him with suppliant voice. And yet 'Three are the gods that rule in heaven and earth,' they vainly deem. What sin is this your haughty minds breathe out, ye errirng penitents? I plead no merit- am no real devotee. Grace unfailing to the faithful. They roam'd and cull'd choice varied flowers to lay in worship at Thy feet, They deemed that all they sought they should obtain; and from these loving hearts In mystic guile Thou hidest still, abiding not!
In grace bestow, Love to Thy glorious foot, that I may ceaseless praise with perfect song! Civan was an ascetic,as am I now. Erewhile the Maker's-maker bowed, brought blooming flowers, and everywhere Sought for Th' All-seeing One, nor found.
Our mighty One, Who dwells beyond, Here in the wilds with demons danced, a homeless, friendless one; and there In tiger-skin arrayed Himself, as madman wand'ring to and fro! Save Thy servants in the day of doom!
After that hour unknown has come The deeds-mighty the soul to bind-Thy slave in wand'ring days has done Let the time come for these to pass! Guard us from these, our Guardian then! Bhavan's our Lord. Bhavan's our Lord, Whose garland is the cool vast moon, of heavenly one The Prince.
That earth may know, sound out that Bhuvan is our Lord! Unmeet was I to enter 'mongst Thy loving ones, my flawless Gem! Ambrosia rare! The way Thou took'st me for Thine own and mad'st me meet The very meanest lifting high, Thou didst the heav'nly ones bring low!
What Thou our Lord to me hast done is as a play men laugh to see! A prayer for perfect love- 'Midmost of Thy devoted ones, like them in mystic dance to move; Within Thy home above to gain wish'd entrance, lo, I eager haste!
O golden-glorious Hill of gems! Give grace, that ceaseless love to Thee. Our Master, in my heart of hearts, melting my very soul, may 'bide. Longing for grace alone. I dread not any birth. To death what should I owe! Nor do I crave Even heaven itself to gain. No power to rule this earth do I esteem. O Civan, crowned with cassia-flowers that sweets distil; our PerumAn! Our only Lord! I fainting cry: I sit, no fitting flowers present, my tongue no rising raptures speaks.
Thou Who the well-strung golden bow didst bend! Deadness of soul. To death I haste! Thou Whom true wisdom bringeth nigh! My praise is pure. Free me from embodiments. The heavenly ones adore Thee still heaven's bliss to share!
Their minds to Thee They lowly humble that, on high exalted, men may worship them; Thou round whose flower-wreath hum the honey-bees! Thy slave, I praise Thee, even I, that Thou may'st save from idle round of earthly birth!
The bliss of Civan's heaven of presence. The heavenly dwellers chaunt Thy praise; the fourfold VEdas utter song; She of the shining locks that shed perfume is sharer of Thy seat; There in true love Thy servants all commingling dwell; there, more and more, Thy feet with sounding anklets girt do they behold, Thou hard to know!
This abandonment is unendurable. Thou Whom 'tis hard to know, in sky and in the golden court revealed,- Our mighty One! How can it be? I die, insooth, I die! He is above; we earthly still. With flow'ry arrows in the spring-time comes the god of soft desire, And witching smile of maidens fair, with rosy mouths and flower-wreathed locks!
Poor soul, that pants and melts through these, Who made thee His, and thrilled thy frame, To-day hath gone and dwells in heaven; yet see, thou still art lingering here! O soul be wise! O soul, that livest here in joy!
Of life's true joys bereft, in mire Thou sink'st of 'mighty deeds '! Him Who guards men from sinking praisest not! This decad describes the mystic experience known by Caiva Siddhantha, as NAna-Carithai, in which the devotee, though able to discern God in and above and beyond all things, continues to perform outward rites Carithai and to avail himself ofall means of grace.
I have relapsed into apathy.
Thou mad'st me Thine! Yet now. Deadness has come over me. Like iron statue, I Now sing no praise, nor dance, nor weep, nor wail,.
Very vile, but Thine, save me! Though such I was, Thou took'st me for Thine own. Thy saints are here no longer, only I, Vile wretch! Our PerumAn, what shall I say to Thee? Thy votary, though full of sin. In torrent plunged of lust And guile, behold me, spotless Hill of gems!
The mystery of His being. Thy colour is not red,-nor white Thy form;-. Thou showd'st Thy form, Thy beauty didst display. Me wandering, Thine Thou mad'st, safeguarding me from future ' birth '! Wonders of grace. Of me, mere cur,. Thou mad'st the eye rest on Thy foot's blest flower, Thou mad'st me bow before that flower alone!
My mouth. Thou mad'st to speak abroad Thy gem-like word! My senses five to fill Thou cam'st, and mad'st me Thine. Ambrosial Sea of magic might! O Mount! Thyself Thou gav'st, Thy form like wild of roseate lotus flowers,. Thou Only-Light! So to me, O Primal One, Thou showd'st a boundless fertile shore,.
What He did for me. Him none by hearing know; He knoweth no decay;. He hath no kin; naught asking, heareth all! While people of the land beheld, here on this earth. Such is the wondrous work our Lord hath wrought for me! His appearing. Say, is there aught like this? He made me servant of His loving saints; Dispell'd my fear, ambrosia pouring forth, He came,. King of the ' Three '; what teeming worlds create, Preserve, destroy; the First; Essence divine;. He came, and made me, too, His own.
Henceforth I'm no one's vassal; none I fear! We've reached the goal; with servants of His saints. The sluggish soul. I thou dost! The ungrateful, treacherous heart. My Sire came, entered, made His own me who knew naught; in mercy taught. Despite the gain of changeless, sweetest gifts of grace,thou'rt changed,.
Heart unworthy of trust; insensible to complaint My foolish senseless HEART, that changing, RUIN bringst to me, Henceforth I trust thee nevermore;-assuredly on Civan's mighty arm The ashes thickly smeared thou saw'st, yet melted'st not; this, body's bonds Thou rendest not,-nor can I bid restore the ruin thou hast wrought.
The utter folly of the fickle mind. Perish, O restless mind! Truly I deem Thy wisdom and Thy greatness measureless! Insensible to infinite mercy. What remedy? If 'tis not given to pass the golden gate,-where all may entrance find, And whence none e'er departs;-nor yet to melt in love before the foot Of Him, my Sire, my Lord;-if there to me abound no more Ambrosia, every honied sweet;-a sinful man, what can I do for this?
A sinner - I quit thee not. What other sinners are there like to me, cur at the Master's Foot? Yet not a whit from me to sever is Thy sacred will; and thus, O Primal One, Thy Foot's fair flower if I should quit, arld yet live on, My soul is iron, stone my mind; my ear to what shall it compare!
Life, a long exile. The others all have reached the goal, yet I, who know not anything, Haste not to Thee who art all sweetness, Civan, King of Civa-world; Thou Spouse of her whose eye is like the tender fawn; long time I still abide, cherish this flesh, and so my death-in-life drags on!
How do I bear life? O bliss that ceases not! O bliss beyond compare! His bright flower-foot He gave; to me of kind more base than dogs, He showed the perfect way My Chief, who gave me grace sweeter than mother's love, I see not now! Yet in the fire I fall not, wander not o'er hills, nor plunge me in the sea! Still the senses' slave. To Civan's city go I not, where grace as honey to the soul is given; To cherish soul within the body, still I eat, and garments still put on!
I did not clearly apprehend Thine appearing. Like elephant two-handed I saw not My mind's true germ; I saw but sore distress. Thou bad'st me, 'come'; yet, 'mid the heavenly ones 'Twas l alone passed not, the senses' slave. It must have been illusion. Is HE man? To all who apprehend that one bright Essence truly is, As female, male, or lifeless thing Thou art not known;- To me Thy servant, coming as Thou art, Thou didst appear! I saw Thee, yet I saw Thee not! What visual juggle this!
When shall I really see Thee as Thou art? Thou Form unique, to even heavenly ones Unknown! Thou Mystic Dancer, Who didst make me Thine! Me Thine! I am of earth, earthy. Thou Infinite, by men yet seen! Beyond eye's ken Thou Essence gleaming bright! Here, like a fledgling, I Would gladly leave this faulty frame; yet know I not Dweller in this sense-world-how I may Thee put on.
I call not on Thee filled with mighty love, Nor render praise, nor fall in ecstasy 'Tis with me as when death confronted Thee, Bowing before those lotus flowers Thy feet.
Call me, take me once more. Call, take me 'midst Thy loving ones, Thou crowned With cassias, home of sweets and humming bees!
The Self-sufficing sought out me. Fathcr and Mother, Lord! To all besides. Sire, Mother, Lord: Erewhile within my inmost soul He entered, Whom none by thought can know, the Ever-blissful One!
I had but a glimpse of His glory. To Thee, nor wealth, nor want! From heavenly ones to worms, And grass, no limit , all Thou fillest, -Being rare!
I saw Thy Foot-gem limitless, yet swerved from Thee. This is the grief I stony-hearted have endured! An appeal. My bonds Thou loosed'st, mad'st me Thine! And all The loving saints who ashes gave beheld. Thou didst exalt, within the temple court, Ev'n me Thou didst exalt, who knew not anything. I was not chosen for my wisdom or might. Thou Only-Wise! Thou saw'st my ignorance that day Thou mad'st me Thine!
Ah, Lord of grace, was I then wise? No possible return for such mercies. I am still the senses' slave Mean cur, that knew not what to do, I gave myself to gain those things That false ones gain, who ne'er have seen Thy flowery Feet of ruddy gold. I only left!
Thou Warrior strong from out Thy golden city cam'st, mad'st darkness flee; With Her the beauteous Queen didst deign to come. The glorious devotees Who grace had gained, approached Thy Feet. I saw, yet like a sightless hog That roams the village street, shall I still roam a wretch doomed to live on? My love is weak Full many a saint through deathless time wrought penance,members mortified With frustrate hope to see Thee here! Yet Thou didst sinful me Thy servant make.
O Gem! This frame with foulness filled wears not away. To see Thy face, The strong desire and love 'bide not in me; my Prince, how may I rise? Still I live this loathed life. Thy bride is Umai with the fawn-like eyes! Thou cam'st and mad'st me Thine Ambrosia Thou, essential sweetness shed! Thy will ordains my exile. Yet here more mean than village cur I dwell; my heart no rapture feels; my mind is stone, nor melts within.
My old life of earthly love. Faithless I strayed, I left Thy saints. A reprobate was I I How did I watch the one belov'd, The quiverings of the lip, the folds of circling robe, the timid bashfull looks To read love's symptoms there! My mind thus ruin to myself wrought out.
Was my vocation a mockery then? Of worth. I void am yet Thy slave; Thou me hast made Thine own; if this be so Thy servant's state would show, I plead, Thy gift of grace was but Thy sport.
What other refuge have I? Thy nature others know not! Me evil cur, lowest of all, Hast Thou not made Thine own? And wilt Thou let me go cast out from Thee? Then who will deign to look on me?
What shall I do, O PerumAn? Father, whose sacred form is gleam of gold, where shall I refuge find? I have sure hope; yet how unworthy! I shall enter beneath Thy Foot which is mine!
No melting love is here! To see Thee - to be made Thine own, - can I Be meet? This abject state, Father! Matchless One! King of heavenly hosts! Tillai's Dancer! All hail! Na ma-ci va ya! My senses fail! Na ma ci-va-ya! Other refuge is there none! Send me not forth from Thee! Triumph, triumph, Hail! All in all! Loving One, Who deign'st to make false ones like me Thine own! O Lord! Hail, hail! Sweetness new of mercy's flood!
Come quickly! Hail, O my GOD! In grace behold me; Hail! I pray Thee melt my soul within me, make me Thine! This body strip from off me; quickly give the heavenly realms! O CangarA, other refuge have I none! Partner of the Queen of glorious form, of ruddy lips, And gleaming smile, and black bright eye! I have myself renounced, even I; Hail, hail, Embiran! I have not done Thee wrong! Foot to which I service owe! Faults to forgive is duty of the great! O cause this earthly life to cease!
Hail, Lord of heaven! Hail, Lord! Thou King of heavenly saints! Partner of the Queen's graceful form, Hail! Wearer of the sacred ash! His magnum opus, an English translation of Thiruvasagam, appeared in Pope found a close affinity to the utterances of sincere devotion in such verses as 'Longing for devotion alone', 'Without thy presence I pine', 'Deadness of soul', 'God all in all', 'I am thine, save me', 'His love demands my all'.
Paul and St. Francis of Assisi. Pope Translation[ edit ] G. Pope translated Thiruvasagam. Victory to the foot of the King, who soothed my soul's unrest and made me His!
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