Post by madanmohandas on May 25, 2021 2:46:22 GMT -6
Sri Pandit Narayana Acarya’s (1290-1370)Sri Narasimha Stuti in twenty two stanzas.
Whose face does with a fiery lustre blaze
Of the bright sun who sheds a thousand rays;
The raging doom's day fire and the flood,
Whose mighty chest is spattered with the blood
Of him who dared in conflict to oppose,
Who viewed the king of gods among his foes;
To Narasimha, Man-lion, I bow,
Who does fearlessness on the meek bestow. 1
Thy dazzle like the doom's day sun is bright
Which makes the wicked tremble in affright;
Thy piercing laughter when the demons hear,
Dispelling gloom, brings them alarm and fear;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 2
Thy feet distained with gore of foemen dead,
With ponderous and terrifying tread,
Caused the seven upper regions to quake,
And seven lower, from their basement shake;
In thee the great gods their confidence place,
And sue for aid, expectant of thy grace;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes and into ashes turn! 3
With deep growling and fierce ferocious roar,
Thy crushing mace down on the foemen bore;
With foining and feigning such skill display
The demons squash, while some flee in dismay;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes and into ashes turn! 4
Thy mighty loins with yellow raiment dight,
Are like the mountains swathed in lightning bright;
Assailing him who sought to make his own
The world, and seat him on lord Indra's throne;
Oh cut and slice the wicked in their course,
And drive off the malignant with main force.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 5
Thy lightning nails the belly gouged and tore,
The quivering members spurting guts and gore,
Of thy great foe who filled the gods with dread,
With now his blood upon thy body spread;
Thine abdomen with three auspicious lines,
And deep navel, with shapely lustre shines.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 6
The lustre of thy fingernails divine,
As rows of stars refulgent twinkling shine;
With which Diti's son thou didst tare apart,
And laid him on thy lap and rent his heart;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 7
The wild and wavy honours of thy mane
Blazes with a bright conflagration's flame;
Which does thy mighty enemy appal,
And tore his heart and brought about his fall;
Under the canopy of clouds and sky,
Thou raisest up thy club-like arm on high,
To smite thy enemy with deadly blow,
And crush, and thus dispatch thy wily foe.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn. 8
Thy upraised mane the radiance displays
Of eight lightning bolts with their blinding rays;
When thou didst rend his chest with thy sharp nails,
Thou wert engarlanded with his entrails;
O dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 9
The puissance of thy radiance and might
Eclipses suns in myriads, though bright;
And the weapons that were against thee sent,
As harmless sacred offerings were spent;
But thou didst launch thy missiles at the foe,
Dispelling gloom, and struck a mighty blow.
O dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn. 10
Thy wide and gaping jaws that auger fear,
Like massive yawning mountain caves appear;
Wherein thy fangs and teeth glow glist'ning bright,
As peaks that shine in the Sun's morning light.
O dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 11
When Indra's enemy in fury raves,
Confounds the gods, and stirs up mighty waves;
Disrupts the meditation and the rites
Of wise sages and pious anchorites;
And to usurp their power he contrives,
The manes of their offerings deprives;
But thy peels of laughter and puissant glow,
Cut down his arrogance and laid him low;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 12
All living creatures in the triple sphere,
Down to the grass, were scorched and fraught with fear;
But thou with thy three eyes of potent glow,
Extinguished the flame of thy mighty foe;
Thou shinest with a sun-like copper sheen,
And terrify the wicked by thy mien;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 13
Thou rovest in thy unrestricted course,
And hold earth with immeasurable force;
Thy foes are filled with terror at thy sight;
But nothing is that may cause thee affright;
All hail to thee! whom the wicked ones dread,
When thy fierce brow is merely contracted;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 14
Thy pointed ears with gold pendants are dight,
And dangle o'er thy jowls, glistening bright;
And furrowed folds of skin adorn thy brows,
Sanguine thy mouth, and protending thy nose;
Thy bristling mane a gold glory displays,
And subjugates thy foes with blazing rays;
'Tis thou who great boons on the gods confers,
Thy faithful attendants and ministers;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 15
Thine armour is thy flowing mane and hair,
And ornaments shining with gemstones rare;
Bright gem-studded armlets thy arms enfold,
That glister with the sheen of ductile gold;
Thy hands diverse auspicious gestures show,
That grant fearlessness and terminate woe;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 16
Armipotent! Who diverse weapons rear,
The mighty bow and shafts and massy spear;
The ponderous club and other implements,
The noose and goad for curbing elephants;
Upon thy lap thy fierce enemy bore,
And his hard abdomen thou gouged and tore;
Thus he was purified of all his sins,
When thou wert adorned with his intestines.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 17
Bare down upon my foes, upon them fall!
Drive them to bewilderment, and appal!
The blazing fury of thy anger pour
Upon the adversaries, and devour!
Burst them into pieces and decimate!
Burn up their bodies and incinerate!
Subdue and conquer haughty enemies!
And save me from my woe and miseries!
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes and into ashes turn! 18
The great gods by Vidhi and Bhava led,
And wise sages, are sore disquieted,
At thy tongue lolling like a tongue of fire,
Between thy fangs, all tremble and retire;
Thy three eyes and thy face augment the fears
Of foemen, and as present death appears;
Resound! Proclaim the doom of destiny
Of thy adversaries, and succour me.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 19
Have mercy Lord, and grant thy benison,
Uproot my sins as thou didst Diti’s son,
Dipel, dispel my sore adversity,
All hail to thee, all hail and victory!
By thy gracious favour my eyes endue,
That thy form eviternal I may view.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burnup my foes, and into ashes turn! 20
This hymn that the Man-lion celebrates,
All inauspiciousness eradicates;
Wherein he is glorified and adored,
As universal preceptor and Lord;
Who in his gentle guise and placid mein,
Showers blessings in majesty serene;
Who with the entrails of his foe now dead,
Pacified, is adorned and garlanded.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes and into ashes turn! 21
Whoever this auspicious poem reads,
That tells of Narahari’s wondrous deeds;
Fraught with magnanimous ferocity,
To save Prahlad, his ardent devotee,
And does this hymn recite and oft repeat,
His sins disperse, his enemies retreat.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 22
Finis
Whose face does with a fiery lustre blaze
Of the bright sun who sheds a thousand rays;
The raging doom's day fire and the flood,
Whose mighty chest is spattered with the blood
Of him who dared in conflict to oppose,
Who viewed the king of gods among his foes;
To Narasimha, Man-lion, I bow,
Who does fearlessness on the meek bestow. 1
Thy dazzle like the doom's day sun is bright
Which makes the wicked tremble in affright;
Thy piercing laughter when the demons hear,
Dispelling gloom, brings them alarm and fear;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 2
Thy feet distained with gore of foemen dead,
With ponderous and terrifying tread,
Caused the seven upper regions to quake,
And seven lower, from their basement shake;
In thee the great gods their confidence place,
And sue for aid, expectant of thy grace;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes and into ashes turn! 3
With deep growling and fierce ferocious roar,
Thy crushing mace down on the foemen bore;
With foining and feigning such skill display
The demons squash, while some flee in dismay;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes and into ashes turn! 4
Thy mighty loins with yellow raiment dight,
Are like the mountains swathed in lightning bright;
Assailing him who sought to make his own
The world, and seat him on lord Indra's throne;
Oh cut and slice the wicked in their course,
And drive off the malignant with main force.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 5
Thy lightning nails the belly gouged and tore,
The quivering members spurting guts and gore,
Of thy great foe who filled the gods with dread,
With now his blood upon thy body spread;
Thine abdomen with three auspicious lines,
And deep navel, with shapely lustre shines.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 6
The lustre of thy fingernails divine,
As rows of stars refulgent twinkling shine;
With which Diti's son thou didst tare apart,
And laid him on thy lap and rent his heart;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 7
The wild and wavy honours of thy mane
Blazes with a bright conflagration's flame;
Which does thy mighty enemy appal,
And tore his heart and brought about his fall;
Under the canopy of clouds and sky,
Thou raisest up thy club-like arm on high,
To smite thy enemy with deadly blow,
And crush, and thus dispatch thy wily foe.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn. 8
Thy upraised mane the radiance displays
Of eight lightning bolts with their blinding rays;
When thou didst rend his chest with thy sharp nails,
Thou wert engarlanded with his entrails;
O dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 9
The puissance of thy radiance and might
Eclipses suns in myriads, though bright;
And the weapons that were against thee sent,
As harmless sacred offerings were spent;
But thou didst launch thy missiles at the foe,
Dispelling gloom, and struck a mighty blow.
O dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn. 10
Thy wide and gaping jaws that auger fear,
Like massive yawning mountain caves appear;
Wherein thy fangs and teeth glow glist'ning bright,
As peaks that shine in the Sun's morning light.
O dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 11
When Indra's enemy in fury raves,
Confounds the gods, and stirs up mighty waves;
Disrupts the meditation and the rites
Of wise sages and pious anchorites;
And to usurp their power he contrives,
The manes of their offerings deprives;
But thy peels of laughter and puissant glow,
Cut down his arrogance and laid him low;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 12
All living creatures in the triple sphere,
Down to the grass, were scorched and fraught with fear;
But thou with thy three eyes of potent glow,
Extinguished the flame of thy mighty foe;
Thou shinest with a sun-like copper sheen,
And terrify the wicked by thy mien;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 13
Thou rovest in thy unrestricted course,
And hold earth with immeasurable force;
Thy foes are filled with terror at thy sight;
But nothing is that may cause thee affright;
All hail to thee! whom the wicked ones dread,
When thy fierce brow is merely contracted;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 14
Thy pointed ears with gold pendants are dight,
And dangle o'er thy jowls, glistening bright;
And furrowed folds of skin adorn thy brows,
Sanguine thy mouth, and protending thy nose;
Thy bristling mane a gold glory displays,
And subjugates thy foes with blazing rays;
'Tis thou who great boons on the gods confers,
Thy faithful attendants and ministers;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 15
Thine armour is thy flowing mane and hair,
And ornaments shining with gemstones rare;
Bright gem-studded armlets thy arms enfold,
That glister with the sheen of ductile gold;
Thy hands diverse auspicious gestures show,
That grant fearlessness and terminate woe;
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 16
Armipotent! Who diverse weapons rear,
The mighty bow and shafts and massy spear;
The ponderous club and other implements,
The noose and goad for curbing elephants;
Upon thy lap thy fierce enemy bore,
And his hard abdomen thou gouged and tore;
Thus he was purified of all his sins,
When thou wert adorned with his intestines.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 17
Bare down upon my foes, upon them fall!
Drive them to bewilderment, and appal!
The blazing fury of thy anger pour
Upon the adversaries, and devour!
Burst them into pieces and decimate!
Burn up their bodies and incinerate!
Subdue and conquer haughty enemies!
And save me from my woe and miseries!
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes and into ashes turn! 18
The great gods by Vidhi and Bhava led,
And wise sages, are sore disquieted,
At thy tongue lolling like a tongue of fire,
Between thy fangs, all tremble and retire;
Thy three eyes and thy face augment the fears
Of foemen, and as present death appears;
Resound! Proclaim the doom of destiny
Of thy adversaries, and succour me.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 19
Have mercy Lord, and grant thy benison,
Uproot my sins as thou didst Diti’s son,
Dipel, dispel my sore adversity,
All hail to thee, all hail and victory!
By thy gracious favour my eyes endue,
That thy form eviternal I may view.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burnup my foes, and into ashes turn! 20
This hymn that the Man-lion celebrates,
All inauspiciousness eradicates;
Wherein he is glorified and adored,
As universal preceptor and Lord;
Who in his gentle guise and placid mein,
Showers blessings in majesty serene;
Who with the entrails of his foe now dead,
Pacified, is adorned and garlanded.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes and into ashes turn! 21
Whoever this auspicious poem reads,
That tells of Narahari’s wondrous deeds;
Fraught with magnanimous ferocity,
To save Prahlad, his ardent devotee,
And does this hymn recite and oft repeat,
His sins disperse, his enemies retreat.
Oh dread Man-lion, Narasimha, burn,
Burn up my foes, and into ashes turn! 22
Finis