Eight stanzas to Bhavani.
No father have I.
No mother.
No comrade.
No son.
No daughter.
No wife.
And no grandchild.
No servant or master.
No wisdom.
No calling.
In thee is my only haven of refuge.
In you my help and my strength.
O Bhavani.
Immersed as I am in the limitless ocean of worldly existence,
I tremble to suffer.
Alas,
I am lustful and foolish and greedy,
And ever enchained by the fetters of evil.
In thee is my only haven of refuge.
In you my help and my strength.
O Bhavani.
To giving alms and to meditation.
To scriptures and hymns and mantras.
A stranger.
I know not of worship.
Possess no dispassion.
In thee is my only haven of refuge.
In you my help and my strength.
O Bhavani.
O mother of pilgrimage or of merit.
Of mental control or the soul's liberation.
Of rigorous vows or devotion.
I know not.
In thee is my only haven of refuge.
In you my help and my strength.
O Bhavani.
Addicted to sinning and worthless companions.
A slave to ill thoughts and to doers of evil.
Degraded am I.
Unrighteous.
Abandoned.
Attached to ill objects.
Adept in ill-speaking.
In thee is my only haven of refuge.
In you my help and my strength.
O Bhavani.
I know neither Brahma nor Vishnu nor Shiva.
Nor Indra,
Sun,
Moon or similar being.
Not one of the numberless gods of Redeemer.
In thee is my only haven of refuge.
In you my help and my strength.
O Bhavani.
In strife or in sadness.
Abroad or in danger.
In water,
In fire.
In the wilds,
On the mountains.
Surrounded by foes.
My savior protect me.
In thee is my only haven of refuge.
In you my help and my strength.
O Bhavani.
Defenseless am I.
Ill,
Aging and helpless.
Enfeebled,
Exhausted and dumbly despairing.
Afflicted with sorrow and utterly ruined.
In thee is my only haven of refuge.
In you alone my help and my strength.
O Bhavani.