Friday, November 7, 2014

happiness

Happiness cannot be travelled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed. Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace and gratitude. Denis Waitley.


The Lord of Tirumal's grove.
Scarlet and Purple
The silkworms rise and spread
Throughout tirumal's grove'
Recalling him who churned
with Mandhara long ago
Nectar luminous sweet
Alas How escape
The Straight shouldered's strategy?

In the lovely terraces in Tirumal's grove
Where warring elephants play
The jasmines from the creepers
Flash his pearly smile.              happiness
And from some other creepers
Comes a cruel laugh
O Friend, to whom shall I complain
Against his garland's spite?

O lovely kakkannam and kaya,
You only remind me
Of the dark hue of the Lord,
Not teach me the way to be saved!
Was it right for the Lord of Tirumal's grove
With whom Lakshmi loves to play, 
to enter my house forcibly
And take my bangles away?

O koels and peacocks,
Bright kakkannam and fresh Kla
Colourful and fragrant kayams,
Living in this green grove
You are a gang of five
guilty of the five greatsins
What have you done to deserve
My great lord's splendid hue?

You black beetles and flowers,
Beautiful crowed pools, 
Red lotuses in ponds,
With black bees on them!
All of you remind me
Of my red eyed, black hued lord
In the grove named after him
show me a place of refuge!

I offered verbally
To Tirumal in his grove
Of fragrant flowers and pools
A hundred pots of butter
And a hundred rice puddings,
Will he, that great Lord,
His fortune ever ascendant
Come here today and take them?

If the Lord of Tirumal's grove
Fragrant with the south
Will come today and partake of these
For each one I will give a lack,
And on top of that five more
If only he would come 
straight into my heart
And stay there eternally.

Is it true what is sung,
Early in the morning
By a flock of black birds
Announcing his arrival?
The Lord of groves and hills
The Lord of Dwaraka,
The Lord of the banyan leaf
Is it his words they repeat?

I stand useless like the flowers
Hanging golden from the konnai
In Tirumal's kongu grove
When, if ever shall I hear
The conch blown by his beautiful mouth
And the twang of his Sarangam?

Those will reach his divine feet
who can recite these ten Tamil verses
composed by Kodai of the curly locks
Decked with bee haunted flowers.
They are in honour of that winsome lord
In Tirumal's grove, washed by the river
Coming down with sandal and ahil
And flooding many tanks in its rage. 

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