nAdasudhArasa
Ragam : Arabhi
Thalam : rUpakam
Pallavi : NAdasudhArasambilanu narAkrutAya manasA
Anupallavi : VEdapurANAgama sAstrATulakAdhAramaina
Charanam :SvaramulArunnOkaTi ghaNTalu vararAgamu kOdaNDamu Dura naya dEshyamu triguNamu niratagati sharamura
Sarasa sangati sandarbhamu gala giramulurA dharabhajana bhAgyamurA tyAgarAju sEvincu
Meaning:
Drink the nectar of pure Nada, O Mind.
Sri Rama is the incarnation of Omkara, which is the essence of the Vedas and the Shastras.
The raagas have become his bow, the Kodanda. The seven notes are the bells tied to the bow and the three styles, Ghana, Naya and Desya are the strings of the bow. The gatis are the numerous arrows and the sangatis are his soft speech.
What is the good fortune of Tyagaraja to have got this gift from the Lord.
Related quotes
girirAjasutA tanaya
Ragam : bangALa
Thalam : dEshAdi
Pallavi :
GirirAjasutA tanaya sadaya
Anupallavi :
SuranATha mukhArcita pAdayuga! paripAlayamAm ibharAjamukha!
Charanam :
GananATha ! parAtpara ! sankarAgama vArinidhi rajanIkara ! PhanirAjakaNkana ! vighna nivAraNa ! shAmbhava ! srItyAgarAjanuta
Meaning:
O son of the daughter of the king of the mountains, O kind hearted one!
Protect me, O one who has the face of the king of the elephants. Your feet are worshipped by the king of the Gods.
O lord of the Ganas, O supreme one! You are the auspicious who is like a moon to the ocean like Vedas. The serpent king adorns your arm like a bracelet. You are the remover of obstacles. O son of Shambhu, Tyagaraja worships you.
Enta bhAgyamu
Ragam : sAranga
Thalam : dEshAdi
Pallavi : Enta bhAgyamu ! mApAla galgitivi EvarIDu mujjagamulalO dana
Anupallavi : centajEri saujanyuDai paliki cinta bAga tOlaginci brocitivi !
Charanam : munnu nIsamIpamuna vElayu sanmunulanElla naNimAdi lIlalacE dinnagAnu pAlanamu jEsinaTu nannu gAcitivi tyAgarAjanuta
Meaning:
What good fortune is this? You are my refuge. Who is your equal in the three worlds?
You came near me talked to me with your charming face and alleviated me of all my worries.
Long ago, you did the same by protecting all the sages who realised you through the eight sidhdhis like Anima. You have done the same to me. Tyagaraja worships you.
Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex
Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex,
For her strength alone can please the mighty hero!
What's the use of this manliness, friend,
When it is of no use to the lord at all?
Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex!
A man might attain the ultimate release,
If he sticks to the path of virtue,
But to indulge in the scrumptious joys of pretended anger
And the lord pleading to make up and other such games,
You simply have to be a woman!
Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex!
For her strength can please the mighty hero!
Even the gods like Indra and the great sages
Revere the very dust of gopis' feet,
Considering themselves lesser than the gopis
As they find their manhood insipid!
Essence of essence the birth of the weaker sex,
For her strength can please the mighty hero!
Woman, the treasure trove of fortune
Experiences and enjoys all day and night
The very nectar, the Vedas and the Scriptures
Struggle to express!
Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex!
Let my dreams come true
My dark one, my lifter of the mountain, life of my life!
For just like the master dragging the meek beast
The leash of love draws Narsinh!
Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex,
For her strength can please the mighty hero!
poem by Narsinh Mehta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kuch Naya Sa
Pee ke ladkhadana
aur ladkhada ke sambhal jana to saaki
Purani aadat thi,
Youn bin piye ladkhadana
aur ladkhadayee he jaana
yeh,
nayee bala hai.
Chot khakar dard me tadpna
aur tadap kar roo jana
to theek tha,
youn bina chot dard me chatpatana
aur chatpatahat mei chein pana,
yeh,
naya marz hai.
Jang me jeetna aur
uska jashn manana
Riwaz hai purana,
Youn bin lade sabkuch haar jaana
Phir haar ka jashn manana,
yeh,
Naya dastoor hai.
Kuch paana, aur paakar khona
Toh samajh aata hai,
Youn bin kuch paaye hi sab kuch khoo dena
yeh,
Naya sa ahsas hai.
Pee ke ladkhadana
aur ladkhada ke sambhal jana to saaki
Purani aadat thi,
Youn bin piye ladkhadana
aur ladkhadayee he jaana
yeh,
nayee bala hai.
poem by Anjali Kakati
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The Lord Is His Devotees' Slave
Whatever is a devotee's
caste, clan, family, or name,
Rama's love for him is the same.
Beggar and king
are one to him.
Say, of what caste could be
Brahma or Shiva?
Rama will never abide
in the egotistic man's heart
therefore his slave, Suradasa,
has abandoned pride.
Rama was born in the Raghu clan
Krishna found his home in Gokula.
Words fail to tell of
the Lord's love
universal, all-embracing;
Dhruva was a Kshatriya,
Prahlada a demon and Vidura the son of a maid:
yet the Lord gave them his supreme love,
Krishna washed the devotees' feet
at the Rajasuya.
The Lord is the slave
of his devotees
age after age.
The tongue can't relate
his countless deeds.
Says Suradasa, the Puranas and Vedas
are witness to these.
poem by Sant Surdas
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Seeta, a pity.
Seeta, you are a noble lady,
So chaste, so modest and so graceful.
Rama is your noble lord,
So virtuous, so chivalrous and so truthful.
Ravna is your bitter lover,
So passionate, so devoted and so lustful.
Rama waged a war to redeem you.
Ravna laid his life to retain you.
Rama loved you, as you are his wife.
Ravna wanted you for what you are.
Rama tested you by fire.
If you failed, what would be your fate?
Can Ravna do so, if he were in Rama’s shoes?
Love of Rama is conditional
Love of Ravna is categorical.
Rama loves you; Ravna devours you.
You are second to none to Ravna,
Who lost everything for you and
Who could do anything for you?
Have not you committed a sin
In being the cause for killing a loving dog?
The love for keeping chastity,
More than you love for Rama,
Weighed on you to reject Ravna.
The love for your chastity,
Rather than his love for you,
Weighed on Rama to own you back.
Ravna’s love for you is pure.
He desired you more than Rama did.
You would have lived more vividly
Had you met Ravna first and married.
Instead, you were at loss to earn a sin.
I pity you.
06.06.2002, pakd
[Based on the Hindu Epic
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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bhUvini dAsuDanE
Raga: shrIranjani
Tala: dEshAdi
pallavi
bhUvini dAsuDanE pErAsacE bOnkulADitinA budhamanOhara
anupallavi
avivEka mAnavula gOri kOri aDDudrOva trOkkitinA brOvavE
caraNam
cAla saukhyamO kaShTamO nEnu jAlijEnditinA sarivArilO
pAlamuncina nITamuncinA padamulE gati tyAgarAjanuta
Word to word meaning:
pErAsacE : with the greed to
anE : be known as
dAsuDu: your devotee
bhuvini: in this earth
bOnkulADitinA: did I lie?
budha manOhara: Oh one who enchants the wise?
gOri kOri: asking favours from
avivEka: ignorant
mAnavulu: men
aDDudrOva trOkkitinA: did I traverse crooked paths?
brOvavE: protect me
nEnu jAlijEnditinA: did I think
tsAla saukhyamO: of good times
kaShTamO: or difficult times?
sarivArilO: for people like me
pAlamuncina : what if you bathe me in milk
nItamuncina : or water?
padamulE gati: your feet are my only refuge
Meaning:
Oh one who enchants the wise, did I lie out of greed to be known as your foremost devotee on this earth?
Did I traverse crooked paths and lower myself by begging from base individuals? Protect me!
Did I ever bother about profit or loss? For people like me, to whom your feet are the only refuge, whether we bathe in milk or water it is all the same.
At the Devil's Door
Catalina Sandino Moreno, Naya Rivera, Ashley Rickards, Mark Steger, Ava Acres, Arshad Aslam, Jan Broberg
by Nicholas McCarthy from At the Devil's Door (2014)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Simplicity of being
'....it is of the very essence of Christianity to face suffering and death not because they are good, not because they have meaning, but because the resurrection of Jesus has robbed them of their meaning."
Thomas Merton
*********
The moon fades,
clouds enshroud stars
pale trees glare
ensnared by winter winds
blanching at death's edge,
and yet you whisper
gently in the rain,
promise me gifts
of disease and pain
to strip me clean
and pure again.
O, make me
your sacrament!
pure essence,
of eternal gain.
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Piercing Music
Piercing notes attached to the ears
Reside in the inner recesses of the mind;
Once a spectacular moment is heard
The roof of the house is like a garden.
It elaborates and instigates a trial
For the bitter head, a solution to your ease.
When music is so sudden we seem to recline
And take control over the notes so orchestrated.
Let the ears be conditioned to the essence of thought
Engendered by the music we so love and admire
Like the chiming of church bells to celebrate the Lord.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who's To Blame
Oh Mother Ghana; Mother Ghana
What has happened to you?
What has happened to your culture?
They say we've fold arms against 'Vernacular' language
Instead opened arms wide to 'English' language
Oh Mother Ghana Mother Ghana
Why?
At school, we are taught the things we do not know
By the 'English' language
Why not 'Vernacular' language?
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana
Where is your true identity as pure African?
Where is your pride as true Ghanaian?
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana,
Day after day
When we put on the uniform as students
We are forbidden to speak 'Vernacular' language
Instead the 'English' language
Why Mother Ghana, why Mother Ghana?
When we speak 'Vernacular' language; your culture,
They say: 'Speak English' someone's culture!
When we speak 'English' that someone's culture
They say: 'Abrofosem; speak vernacular language' your culture!
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana
Who's to blame?
'English or Vernacular language'
Oh Mother Ghana; Oh Mother Ghana.
poem by Francis Julian Zewu
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Rama
The Day That Kausalya Does Not See His Face
She is restless and sad so her heart does race
Every person speaking she thinks it is her son
She calls out His Name Rama Rama dear son!
She goes about her work her mind is on Rama
What a fate have I to be separated from Rama
Let no Mother suffer this and part with her son
What a sacrifice this is to have God as my son!
I am a Mother like any other who raised her son
I wished for Him the very best like a human son
Did not wish even for a human son to leave me
How can I bear this separation of Rama and me?
He is the best in the world for me and for you
Taking His Name they will have salvation true
I don't need anything in this world ever to gain
Rama dearest please show me your face again!
poem by Ashoka Harichandan
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Nai Zindagi Naya Jeevan
New way new life.
Imagine the possibilities.
How many situations,
Conflicts great and small
Would benefit
From applying this simple mantra?
I remember vividly
Watching avidly
As Nai Zindagi Naya Jeevan
Appeared on the TV.
I was consumed
By the vibrant culture.
Then I'd go to school
And tell Zahid
What I'd seen.
poem by Esra Sloblock
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Whipping Post
I been run down, I been lied to,
I dont know why I let that mean woman make me a fool.
She took all my money, wrecked my new car.
Now shes with one of my goodtime buddies,
Theyre drinkin in some crosstown bar.
Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Like I been tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, I feel like Im dyin.
My friends tell me, that Ive been such a fool,
And I have to stand by and take it baby, all for lovin you.
Drown myself in sorrow, and I look at what youve down.
But nothin seems to change, the bad times stay the same,
And I cant run.
Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Like I been tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, I feel like Im dyin.
Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Like I been tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, I feel like Im dyin.
Transcribed by rich kulawiec, [email protected]
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Whipping Post
I been run down, i been lied to,
I don't know why i let that mean woman make me a fool.
She took all my money, wrecked my new car.
Now she's with one of my goodtime buddies,
They're drinkin' in some crosstown bar.
Sometimes i feel, sometimes i feel,
Like i been tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, i feel like i'm dyin'.
My friends tell me, that i've been such a fool,
And i have to stand by and take it baby, all for lovin' you.
Drown myself in sorrow, and i look at what you've down.
But nothin' seems to change, the bad times stay the same,
And i can't run.
Sometimes i feel, sometimes i feel,
Like i been tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, i feel like i'm dyin'.
Sometimes i feel, sometimes i feel,
Like i been tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, i feel like i'm dyin'.
Transcribed by rich kulawiec, [email protected]
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Fortune
They say to celebrate
you should raise a glass or two,
but if you do not drink
that is something hard to do.
Instead, you can toast
by raising a cup of tea
and light several candles
for the more misfortunate
than you,
and then thank god
for bringing good fortune
to you.
Good fortune may not be money
to line your pockets well.
Good fortune might be the joy
of triumphing over adversity,
or it could be
getting over your fears.
Whatever good fortune
means to you.
You must celebrate
with happiness
and share your good fortune
with everyone
you will meet.
19 April 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ya Tvoya Ne Pervaja
Allo,
Allo,
Vidish' veter?
Nu I chto?
Posmotri v okno,
Nu I chto?
A vchera bylo solntse,
Nu I chto?
Zachem ty vse vremya govorish' odno I tozhe?
A ya avtootvetchik.
Vzyat' I uspokoit'sya,
Zoloto Molchanie,
Radio bessonitsa,
Stantsiya proschanie.
Kto komu dostanetsya,
Vypadet monetkami?
Kto komu ostanets'ya
Nervami, tabletkami?
Za nochnymi oknami
Zakrichit, slomaetsya,
Eto ne schitaetsya, eto ne schitaetsya.
Vernaya, nevernaya,
Tikhaya, pechal'naya.
Ya tvoya ne pervaya,
Ty moya sluchainaya.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi,
Pokazhi, pokazhi, mne lyubov'.
Pokazhi pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi.
Pochemu, pochemu ya s toboi.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi,
Pokazhi, pokazhi, mne lyubov'.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi.
Pochemu, pochemu, ya s toboi.
Kazhetsya, okazhetsya
Prosche ne znokomit'sya.
Kto iz nas otkazhetsya
Vzyat' I uspikoit'sya?
Devochki kak devochki,
A potom - lunatiki,
Nomera I strelochki
Shokoladki, fantiki.
Spryachetsya, rasplachetsya,
Skazhet, ispugaetsya.
Eto ne schitaetsya, eto ne schitaetsya.
Vernaya, nevervaya,
Tikhaya, pechal'naya.
Ya tvoya ne pervaya,
Ty moya sluchainaya.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi,
Pokazhi, pokazhi, mne lyubov'.
Pokazhi pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi.
Pochemu, pochemu ya s toboi.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi,
Pokazhi, pokazhi, mne lyubov'.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi.
Pokazhi, mne lyubov'.....
song performed by by Tatu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pokazhi Mne Lyubov'
Allo,
Allo,
Vidish' veter?
Nu I chto?
Posmotri v okno,
Nu I chto?
A vchera bylo solntse,
Nu I chto?
Zachem ty vse vremya govorish' odno I tozhe?
A ya avtootvetchik.
Vzyat' I uspokoit'sya,
Zoloto Molchanie,
Radio bessonitsa,
Stantsiya proschanie.
Kto komu dostanetsya,
Vypadet monetkami?
Kto komu ostanets'ya
Nervami, tabletkami?
Za nochnymi oknami
Zakrichit, slomaetsya,
Eto ne schitaetsya, eto ne schitaetsya.
Vernaya, nevernaya,
Tikhaya, pechal'naya.
Ya tvoya ne pervaya,
Ty moya sluchainaya.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi,
Pokazhi, pokazhi, mne lyubov'.
Pokazhi pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi.
Pochemu, pochemu ya s toboi.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi,
Pokazhi, pokazhi, mne lyubov'.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi.
Pochemu, pochemu, ya s toboi.
Kazhetsya, okazhetsya
Prosche ne znokomit'sya.
Kto iz nas otkazhetsya
Vzyat' I uspikoit'sya?
Devochki kak devochki,
A potom - lunatiki,
Nomera I strelochki
Shokoladki, fantiki.
Spryachetsya, rasplachetsya,
Skazhet, ispugaetsya.
Eto ne schitaetsya, eto ne schitaetsya.
Vernaya, nevervaya,
Tikhaya, pechal'naya.
Ya tvoya ne pervaya,
Ty moya sluchainaya.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi,
Pokazhi, pokazhi, mne lyubov'.
Pokazhi pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi.
Pochemu, pochemu ya s toboi.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi,
Pokazhi, pokazhi, mne lyubov'.
Pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi, pokazhi.
Pokazhi, mne lyubov'.....
song performed by by Tatu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Id
Who are we, without a name?
without an identity,
we are all the same
I'm as right as I can be.
merely people among people,
just called something different
not clossed a certin type.
Lose all form of identity,
remove our etiquette
of who and what we might be,
and equality we have met.
we are simply individual packages,
same content,
uniquely wrapped.
Remove the common ID
between me and you,
look and you will see,
the same way that I do.
poem by Roger Naya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sri Rama Jayam
Evokes chanting of my 'RamRam'
Picking up Pavalamalli flowers at 6a.m
A good day ahead
My regular counts of SriRamajayam
After a hectic kitchen record at 9.30a.m
Inking out in words in a note book
And on a day of submission...
'Before pooja almirah supporting me a mat-seater
My concentration grips Rama better
Although bossing over my anger to fade out
As the maid keeps sweeping
Dust from the broom splattering
Without a divine heart for the sacred book
I say sorry to Rama
Chuck out myself of the room
To make coffee for the lady-broom
And give up not; I further continue with Rama
Sitting in the chair in the porch in silence
A while later hubby next glances
Brunch ready?
Rush to the dining table
Hubby relishes his pappads crumble
Hmm.. I say sorry to Rama
Back to pooja almirah
Sit up to pursue Rama
But oops, a phone call
Daughter! And hubby is hysterical
Me too driven towards grand-son's prattle
Forget myself and quite unaware
But soon conscience pricks
Work be soon finished for Rama's blessing looks
Should submit it to the Lord
I say sorry to Rama
Sit back to my writing
Lunch time past; Yet mind not skipping
Write and write on
Rama must be invisibly looking at me
My hope, Anjaneya recommends me
By 4p.m complete my work
March on to the temple
Hand over my book so humble
Pray with closed eyes
Finally blessed with ' prasadh' when awake.
But lo, the wrapper to shake
A piece of Ramajayam-paper...
I look at the Lord so puzzled
But He, smiling as He ever has stood
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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