To him,
To Sri Dakshinamurti.
I bow to Sri Dakshinamurti in the form of my guru.
I bow to him by whose grace the whole of the world is found to exist entirely in the mind.
Like a city's image mirrored in a glass.
The like a dream,
Through maya's power it appears outside.
And by whose grace,
Again,
On the dawn of knowledge,
It is perceived as the everlasting and non-dual self.
I bow to Sri Dakshinamurti in the form of my guru.
I bow to him who,
By the sheer power of his will,
Projects outside,
Like a magician or a mighty yogi,
This infinite universe,
Which in the beginning rests without name or form,
Like the sprout in a seed.
And after creation,
By the power of time and space,
Imagined through maya,
Appears to be many,
Possessed of manifold shapes and hues.
I bow to Sri Dakshinamurti in the form of my guru.
To him whose outward manifestations,
Though based on the real,
Appear as illusory,
Ever-changing objects.
Who grants to those who take refuge in him,
Through the Vedic pronouncement,
Tat tvamasi,
The boon of immediate knowledge of Brahman.
To which attaining,
One returns no more to the realm of birth and death.
I bow to Sri Dakshinamurti in the form of my guru.
To him whose knowledge,
Issuing forth through the organs of sense,
Like the glow of a powerful lamp placed in a pot with many holes,
Vibrates outside in the shape of the thought,
I know.
Whose light it is that illumines the whole of the universe.
I bow to Sri Dakshinamurti in the form of my guru.
To him who dispels the mighty illusion evoked by maya's play.
Impelled by which,
Unseeing childish and misguided people continually speak in error of body,
Prana,
Senses,
And even of the fickle mind as I.
Though in reality,
These are all mere emptiness.
I bow to Sri Dakshinamurti in the form of my guru.
I bow to him who,
As a person,
In deep and dreamless sleep,
Exists as ultimate truth itself.
When outer awareness is obscured,
Like the sun or moon in Rahu's grasp,
And the organs of sense are all withdrawn,
And who,
On awakening,
Tells themself,
It was I who slept,
And sees again the objects they saw before.
I bow to Sri Dakshinamurti in the form of my guru.
I bow to him who,
In his loving kindness,
Reveals to his worshippers the eternal atman,
Which,
Through the changes of waking,
Dreaming,
And dreamless sleep,
Through childhood,
Youth,
Maturity,
And old age,
Persists as the inexhaustible flow of consciousness,
Revealing itself in the heart as the ever-present sense of I.
I bow to Sri Dakshinamurti in the form of my guru,
Seated before me,
Who,
As a mortal under the sway of maya,
And whether awake or dreaming,
Perceives that the world is composed of multiple entities,
Joined in relation to one another.
As cause and effect,
Owner and owned,
Teacher and pupil,
Sire and son.
I bow to Sri Dakshinamurti in the form of my guru,
Beyond whom,
For a wise and discerning person,
No being exists superior,
Who has manifested himself in an eightfold form as the tangible and insentient earth,
Water,
Fire,
Air,
And ether.
As the sun,
The lord of day,
The moon,
Of soothing light,
And as living man.
This hymn to Sri Dakshinamurti clearly reveals the ultimate truth,
As the soul of everything that has life.
Therefore,
By hearing it,
And by pondering on it,
By contemplating it,
And by reciting it,
One attains unrivaled lordship,
Acquiring the glory of being the inmost self of all,
And effortlessly receives without interruption the eight unique powers of the godhead.
I bow to Sri Dakshinamurti in the form of my guru,
Seated upon the earth by yonder banyan tree.
I bow to him who bestows on the sages direct knowledge of the ultimate truth.
I bow to the teacher of the three worlds,
The lord himself,
Who dispels the misery of birth and death.
Behold,
Under the banyan tree are seated the aged disciples about their youthful teacher.
It is strange indeed,
The teacher instructs them only through silence,
Which in itself is sufficient to scatter all his disciples' doubts.
I bow to him who is the inner meaning of the sacred syllable OM,
To him whose nature is pure awareness.
I bow to Sri Dakshinamurti,
Stainless and serene beyond measure.
I bow to Sri Dakshinamurti,
The mine of eternal wisdom,
The healer of those who suffer from the malady of birth and death,
Who is regarded by all as their own teacher.
I praise Sri Dakshinamurti,
My youthful teacher,
Who through silent instruction reveals the truth of the Parabrahman,
Who is surrounded by aged disciples,
Mighty sages devoted to Brahman.
I praise the supreme teacher,
The essence of bliss,
Who reveals in his own self the silent one,
Whose hand is uplifted in the benediction of knowledge.
