tiruvAcagam or The Sacred Utterances of the Tamil Poet, Saint and ...

ight jewelled ones, sing the Civa-world !
For His foot, Whose head is crowned with braided lock
where GangA's streams resound with serpent's hiss;
While our bosoms with swelling tenderness
heave, POUND WE THE SACRED DUST OF GOLD ! (56)
XV.
Essence of wisdom's sweetness exquisite;
honey unfailing, full of excellence;
Him who is savour rich of every fruit; the King
with power to enter sweetly every mind;
The Dancer Who cut off embodiment
and made us His, in swelling strains praise ye,
Ye maidens sweet, with eyes like purple lotus flowers,
singing, POUND WE THE SACRED DUST OF GOLD ! (60)
XVI.
Thus we too, coming with the loving ones,
shall sing the ways He makes us His,
He shows the roseate flowery feet, that gods
in Heaven who rule, e'en in their dreams, know not.
He bears aloft the flag of victory
in prosperous war. Praise Civa-PerumAn ! -
Singing the conquering Hero's names who took
the towns, POUND WE THE SACRED DUST OF GOLD ! (64)
XVII.
Sing we the cassia-flower with honey rife;
sing Civa-town; sing we the infant moon
Upon His sacred braided lock; sing we
the mighty Bull, the trident and the axe,
His warring right hand wields; that dwellers
in this world, and in other worlds might 'scape;
Sing how the poison for his food He ate,
that day, and POUND WE THE SACRED DUST OF GOLD ! (68)
XVIII.
He trundled Ayan's head like ball, - sing Him !
He broke the teeth of Arukkan, - sing Him !
He slew the elephant, and wore its skin, - praise Him !
The Lord of death He spurned with sacred Foot, - praise Him !
He shot His arrows 'gainst the towns combined, - praise Him !
Poor wretched slaves, He made us His, - praise we
That love ! Here stand, and ever dance and sing,
and for the Lord, POUND WE THE DUST OF GOLD ! (72)
XIX.
Sing ye the cassia-wreath of rounded flowers !
Sing ye His folly wild ! His wisdom sing !