Shivananda Lahari — Complete Lyrics

May this salutation of mine be offered again and again, in my heart, to the two — Shiva and Shivaa — who are adorned with the crescent moon upon their crest, who are the very fruit of each other's penance, who reveal their grace to devotees, who bring boundless auspiciousness to the three worlds, and who shine forth as the experience of bliss.

May the Wave of Shiva's Bliss be ever victorious — flowing as the river of your sacred deeds, O Shambhu, washing away the dust of sins, coursing through the channels of the intellect, granting relief from the torment of wandering in worldly existence, and coming to dwell in the lake-bed of my heart.

In my heart I worship that Mahadeva — knowable through the three Vedas, delightful, the primordial destroyer of Tripura, the three-eyed Lord with a glorious mass of matted hair, wearing a moving serpent as a garland and holding a deer; the great God, ever compassionate to me, the Lord of beings, the support of consciousness, who is with Mother Amba, the auspicious one beyond all mimicry.

There are a thousand lesser gods in this world who grant only petty rewards; even in a dream I do not think of following them or of the fruit they give. What is hard to attain even for Hari, Brahma and others who stand near you — that I beg of you forever, O Shambhu, O Shiva: the worship of your lotus feet.

I worship your lotus feet, I ever contemplate you as the Supreme, I take refuge in you as my Lord, with my words I beg of you alone, O all-pervading One; I behold you everywhere, the incomparable One present in all, with a heart full of devotion each day. (And you ask me) 'Tell me, what is it you seek?'

This my salutation is to Shambhu — the Primordial One of measureless splendour, knowable through the words of the Vedas, the goal to be attained, whose nature is the bliss of knowledge, ever striving to protect the three worlds, meditated upon by all yogis, sung by the hosts of gods, the wielder of Maya, intent upon the rapture of the cosmic dance, the one with matted locks.

Is this not your one supremely benevolent act, O Lord of beings — that you behold within yourself the whole moving and unmoving universe, and even bear it? Having drunk and held back the surging poison that men deem the cause of dread, the wise declare that your form, which thus spends time, is the very giver of universal welfare.

I bow with my head to that God — Rudra, the Lord of beings, the immovable Sthanu, the blue-throated one, the Lord of Uma. What then can death do to us?