Longings For Death

Our lord supreme, both earth and heav’n indwelling,
See how I have no other help but Thee.
Thou king of Śiva's world, bright beyond telling,
Dweller in Perunduṛai, look on me.
Who'll hear my cry, who list to my complaining,
If Thou Thy grace deny, who saved’st me?
I find in sea-girt earth no joy remaining.
Now let Thy grace speak, bid me come to Thee.

In Thee she dwells whose feet than down are softer;
See how I have no other help but Thee.
Thou king of Śiva's world, my gracious master,
Dweller in Perunduṛai, look on me.
Fear holds me; for, in dark confusion godless,
I did forget the grace that savèd me.
Dog and deceitful am I. Life is joyless.
Now let Thy grace speak, bid me come to Thee.

In Thee she dwells whose ancient praise is faultless;
See how I have no other help but Thee.
Thou king of Śiva's world, the bright moon wearing,
Dweller in Perunduṛai, look on me.
Whom save Thee could I worship with my praises?
Can any other refuge give for me?
O Rider of the bull, my life is joyless.
Now let Thy grace speak, bid me come to Thee.