श्रीविष्णु सौन्दर्य-वर्णनम् (अपूर्व-स्तुति)
शतपत्र-फणामणि-मण्डिते
भुजगेश-शयनं भुवनैक-नाथम् ।
योगनिद्रा-सुख-लीलया स्थितं
वन्दे विष्णुं जगदादि-कारणम् ॥
वक्षःस्थले कौस्तुभ-दीप्यमानं
श्रिया समं शाश्वत-सन्निविष्टम् ।
यत्र स्थितं सकलार्थ-सारं
हृदम्बुजं तस्य विराजते स्म ॥
कमल-लोचनं करुणा-निधानं
दीर्घायतं शान्त-सुधा-प्रवाहम् ।
यस्य कटाक्षेण भवन्ति मुक्ताः
संसार-पङ्के पतिता अपि जन्तवः ॥
कपोल-युग्मे मृदु-हास-रेखा
चन्द्रांशु-शीतल्यमिवावहन्ती ।
न वाच्यते सा स्मित-सम्पदा यत्
मौनं स्वयं गीतमिव प्रवर्तते ॥
अधरोष्ठ-बिम्बे सुधया निविष्टे
स्वल्पं स्मितं विश्व-विमोहनाय ।
नूनं तदेवामृत-सागरस्य
प्रथमं बिन्दुमिवावतारः ॥
सुश्लक्ष्ण-चिबुकं स्थिर-धैर्य-रूपं
नीतिज्ञता-लक्षण-शोभमानम् ।
यत्र प्रतिष्ठा सकल-धर्माणां
मूलं यथा मेरुरिव स्थितं तत् ॥
ग्रीवा त्रिरेखाभिरलंकृता या
त्रैलोक्य-सौख्यस्य प्रतीक-भूता ।
यत्र स्वभावो न वदत्यहंता
स्वयमेव दासत्व-रसः प्रसूते ॥
पीताम्बरं प्राञ्जलि-वायु-लीनं
कालस्य वेगं निवारयन्तम् ।
नाभी-सरोजे सृजति स्म ब्रह्मा
तस्यैव विष्णोः चरणौ नमामि ॥
I bow to Lord Viṣṇu, the primal cause of the universe,
who reclines upon the great serpent,
whose thousand hoods shine like jeweled lotus petals,
resting in yogic slumber as a divine sport,
the sole Lord of all worlds.
Upon His broad chest shines the radiant Kaustubha gem,
eternally residing there along with Goddess Śrī.
That sacred chest is the very treasury
of all auspiciousness and ultimate purpose,
where the lotus of His heart eternally blossoms.
His eyes are like fully opened lotuses,
vast, tranquil, and flowing with compassion.
By a single merciful glance of those eyes,
even souls sunk deep in the mire of worldly existence
are lifted and freed.
Upon His cheeks appears a gentle line of smile,
cool and soothing like moonlight.
That smile cannot truly be described by words—
for His silence itself seems to sing,
becoming a song of reassurance to the soul.
On His lips rests a faint, enchanting smile,
as though nectar itself has taken form.
Surely that smile is but the first drop
from the boundless ocean of immortality
that is His divine being.
His chin is smooth and firm,
a visible embodiment of steadfast courage and discernment.
There, all righteousness finds its foundation,
standing unshaken—
like Mount Meru itself.
His neck, adorned with three graceful lines,
symbolizes the well-being of the three worlds.
From it naturally flows the rasa of servitude,
where ego finds no voice,
and humility arises without effort.
Clad in flowing yellow silk that moves with the breeze,
He stands beyond the rushing force of time itself.
From the lotus of His navel arose Brahmā, the creator—
to those sacred feet of Lord Viṣṇu,
I offer my humble prostrations.
कटाक्ष-नेत्रेण सुदीर्घ-वीक्ष्य
यः प्राण-वृत्तिं परिभ्रामयेत् ।
न दृष्टिरेषा—स च वह्नि-पुञ्जः
अविद्यया बद्ध-हृदं दहेत् ॥
भ्रू-लास्य-संयुक्त-विलोकनेन
कृपां च क्रीडां च समं वहन्तम् ।
यत्रैक एव क्षण-दर्शनः स्यात्
स पाश-छेदाय फलं ददाति ॥
त्रिभङ्ग-रूपेण विलास-युक्तं
मध्य-प्रदेशे सुकुमार-वल्लिम् ।
यत्रावरोधो न भवेत् गुरुत्वे
लीलैव यत्र स्थितिरूपमेति ॥
वामे करे वेणुमुदार-शोभां
न्यस्तं यथाकाश-सुधा-प्रवाहम् ।
नादेन येन त्रिजगन्निबद्धं
मौनं स्वयं गीतमिव प्रवर्तते ॥
ऊर्ध्वे दुकूलं श्वेत-शान्त-रूपं
पीतेन चाधः प्रविलासमानम् ।
विरोध-भेदेऽपि समत्व-युक्तं
तत्त्वं यथैकत्वमिव प्रकर्षेत् ॥
शान्तं वपुः—किन्तु महाग्नि-तेजः
मन्दं स्मितं—लोक-भय-प्रणाशी ।
बाल्यं च गाम्भीर्य-युतं वहन्तं
वन्दे हरिं नित्य-नवावतारम् ॥
With a single sidelong glance of His eyes,
deep and lingering,
He sets the very currents of life into motion.
That glance is no ordinary look—
it is a whirl of living fire,
burning away the ignorance
that binds the heart.
In the play of His eyebrows and the turn of His gaze,
compassion and divine play coexist.
Even one fleeting moment of His sight
is enough to sever the bonds of bondage
and grant release.
His form bends gently in the triple-curved posture,
the waist turning with effortless grace,
slender and tender like a young creeper.
Here, heaviness finds no place—
His very stance is play,
and play itself becomes sacred stillness.
In His left hand rests the noble flute,
placed as though a stream of nectar flows through space.
By the music born of that flute,
the three worlds are held spellbound,
and silence itself begins to sing.
His upper cloth is serene and white,
while below shines the playful yellow silk.
Though contrasting in color,
they exist in perfect harmony—
as though proclaiming the truth
that unity shines even through apparent difference.
His form is calm,
yet ablaze with immeasurable inner fire.
His smile is gentle,
yet it destroys the fears of the worlds.
Bearing both childlike charm and profound depth,
I bow to that Hari—
ever ancient, ever new.
