Friday, December 26, 2014

Thiruppaavai songs 10,11 and 12

Verse 10

nOtruch chuvarkkam pugudindra ammanaai !
maatramum thaaraarO vaasal thiRavaathaar?
naatrath thuzhaaimudi naarayanan nammaal
pOtrap paRaitharum puNNiyanaal paNdorunaaL
kootraththina vaaiveezhntha kumbakarananum
thOtrum unakkE perunthuyilthaan thanthaanO?
aatra ananthal udaiyaai ! arunkalamE!
thEtramaai vanthu theiRavElOr embaavaai.


Oh lady fine, who has entered the heaven,
Due to penance done in last birth,
Won’t you reply,please
Won’t you open the door,please
If we pray the God Narayana,
Having with him the scented garland,
Made of holy basil,
He would give us gifts, many,
He is the same who is holy in times ancient,
Sent Kumbhakarna to his death,
After beating him in the field of war.
Did that ogre give you his sleep,
Before he went off from here,
Oh lass who is very lazy,
Oh lass, who is like pretty jewels,
Wake up from your sleep, well,
And open the door.

Verse 11

katruk karavaik kaNangaL pala kaRanthu,
setraar thiRalazhiyach chendru serucheiyum
kutramondrillaatha kOvalartham poRkodiyE !
putraRa valgul punamayilE ! pOtharaai,
sutraththu thOzhimaar ellaarum vanthunin
mutram pugunthu mugilvaNNan pErpaada,
sitraathe pEsaathE selvap peNdaattee nee
etrukk kurangum poruLElOr embaavaai.


Oh daughter of the cattle baron,
Who milks herds of cows,
And wages war on enemies
And makes his enemies loose their strength,
Oh Golden tendril, Oh lass who has the mount of venus,
Like the hood of the snake, Wake up and come,
When your flock of friends,
Have come to your courtyard, And sing of Krishna,
Who has the colour of the cloud, Oh rich, rich lady,
How can you neither move nor talk, And lie in deep trance,

Verse 12

kanaiththiLang katreRumai kandruk kirangi
ninaththu mulaivazhiyE nindrupaal sOra
nanaiththillam sERaakkum naRchelvan thangaai !
paniththalai veezhanin vaasal kadaipatrich
chinaththinaal thennilangaik kOmaanaich chetra
manththuk kiniyaanai paadavum nee vaaithiRavaai !
iniththaan ezhunthiraai; eedhenna pEruRakkam ?
anaiththillath thaarum aRinthElOr embaavai .


Hey, sister of the rich one, who owned,
The mooing she buffalo with a calf,
Which took pity on the calf,
And gave out plenty,
Of milk to it through its udder,
And made his courtyard slushy with milk,
We are assembled in thine yard,
In the dripping fog, And sing about Him,
Who killed in anger the king of Southern Lanka,
And who is very dear one,
But open your mouth, you don’t..
At least wake up now,
Why this very deep slumber,
For people of all houses around,
Have already become alert

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