Tamil Siddhar Poetry

(forgive me if this image is not apropos to the content of this post) [image source]

Pampatti Siddhar

Four vedas, six shastras, several treatises on strategies,
Puranas, Agamas espousing arts,
Varieties of several other books—
O Snake, Dance!
Declaring all these as useless books.

O Snake! Dance how I saw
The lifted cute feet.
And saw the illumination too.
In the pure space saw I the jubilant Dancer.
Saw also the feet that hit the head of the demon
It was the feet of the Lord.

While the Two gathered mud
One built the kiln for ten months.
The kiln, though wonderful,
Is not worth a fraction of a coin.
Dance! O Snake, saying this.

They praise the shrivelling skin as rounded breast
Metaphorically describe it as a big mountain.
They who fall in the foul-smelling yoni's well shall suffer.
Dance with courage, O Snake, Saying this.

No one can cook the gourd that is painted on paper.
Likewise despite searching in the eight directions there is no refuge.
They build a temple for every town and pray ceaselessly.
But has never seen the Lord's feet.
Dance, O Snake, saying this.

Don't call her a peacock or emerald,
Deer or honey or manna
Don't compare her to a graceful peacock
But chide her and Dance, O Snake!

Collecting mud from the filthy pit, mixing blood as water to make balls
The opportune potter makes an earthenware vessel.
It is not even fit to be a frying pot.
Dance, O Snake, saying this.

We'll shut the snake in the pot of lust.
Let it be charmed in the space of Vedanta.
We'll pluck the five senses and feed it.
In the astringent space-time we'll charm it again.
Mounting the horse, cirumambulate the ancient world.
And attain the eternal minuteness.
Chant the mantra that defies interpretation and retrieve it.
We have achieved a bunch of four.
Dance, O Snake, saying this!

We'll light a fire in the caste division.
We'll plant a cane in the shady yard.
We'll play where the street forks.
We'll make relatives in the proscribed houses.
We'll take a stroll, verify and sleep.
We'll enjoy the congress of felicitous women.
The five ancient Bramans are unaware of this.
Dance, O Snake, saying this!

They describe the stale smelling tangled tresses as a graceful cloud.
They compare the breasts to golden pots.
With a melting heart further melting, they ruminate on those maidens.
And never think of Lord Nimalan.
Dance, O Snake, saying this!


The fire lit earlier was in Thiripuram
The fire lit a little later was in Southern Lanka
The fire that mother lit is in the lower abdomen.
Let the fire that I light spread and spread.

Fire will say "It's for me". The worm will claim the same
This earth will say "Yes, it is for me". The eagle will say, "It is for me to peck."
The fox will say "It is for me." The wild dog will say so.
I fostered this foul-smelling physique with love. What use is it to me?

Wandering like a ghost, lying like a corpse,
Eating up all the alms like a dog, labouring like a fox,
Treating good maidens as mothers,
Greeting everybody with humility,
Will live like babes
Those who realised the real truth.

Even the earth melts. Tree melts. Maya melts. Delusion melts.
Woman melts. Man melts. Discords melt.
Father melts. Mother melts. I too melt thinking of Guru, the Lord.
These are words uttered by Him to me.

If a being is born as a dog it will do justice by hunting.
But born as mortals in mothers' womb as the wealthy,
Like the unyielding fruit tree, dry pond, stone-cow
Why did you create those miserly people? Oh Lord of Kachchi!

You tell tongue-splitting lies, quest for the nine kinds of wealth
Enter into union with vile women
Like the winged ants emerging from the ground
You will bear children ...
Do not know the way to nurse them.
Won't give up.
Like the monkey that put its leg
in the split up trunk and loosened the peg
You are caught. You are in a travail. You are caught.

Pursuit for food. The only pursuit. If it ceases
There is pursuit for gold, an endless pursuit. Pursuit for peacock like women.
Pursuits of all sorts. What pursuit have you reserved for me,
For this forsaken heart? O Lord of Kachchi!

I am the wicked one. Indisciplined.
One who did not conquer the five senses. Unschooled. One who failed go to the sages.
One who didn't tell the truth.
One who lacks the love for your holy feet.
Why did I come into this world? O Lord of Kachchi!.

Vile people of rude words, the despicable, the ruffians, the lusty,
The senseless, they who commit only evil—
Why did you create people of this sort in this world like tall palmyras trees?
They are ignorant of the ethics of the good.
O, Lord of Kachchi!

Verbal blemishes, faltering of thought,
The curses born of wicknedness, the evils of listening
to the utterances of unholy tracts—
Forgive all those faults! Lord of Kachchi!

When Siva and his sacred dancing hall were closer
We have searched for the barren hall.
My ignoble heart perpetually searches for the pit of birth.
And my eyes seek the place I suckled.

Slew several creatures. After slaying, I ate them all.
Besides this I committed crimes.
To absolve all this I stood in your sanctum.
So bear with me for my misdeeds since I trust you. O, Lord of Kachchi.

Not killing, not eating what is killed,
Not learning deception, backbiting, thievery,
Not befriending imposters,
Not telling lies even in dreams,
Not listening to them,
Not going after the delusion of peacock-like women,
Give me wealth. O! Chidambara Desika!

I am incapale of feeding you slicing my son's flesh with a sword.
I am incapable of losing my youth due to the challenge of a woman.
Serving, I can't pluck out my eyes and patch it on the statue.
How am I to surrender myself hereafer to the Father of Thirukkalathi?

You are merciful to yourself, your parents, wife and children.
And thus perpetually pluck the unripe fruit while the mellow ones exist!
My heart! How many did the parents bear?
How many laudations did we get there?

My mother who bore me had despised me, calling me a "corpse".
Women who accepted gifts of gold have cried at me, "Go!".
Sons who acquired everything
Followed me, circumambulated and broke the funereal pot.
There is no hold to destroy my hold for you.

While the hand does one thing, the eyes seek something else
The mind thinks a thought, the vile tongue tells a lie,
The flesh-smelling body leans on something, the ears listen to another sound,
How will you accept my offerings?
O Lord! Destroyer of Fate.

God dwells in the word, at the periphery of the word, in the shruti of the Vedas,
In the gloom, in the immaculate sky,
In the house of the wise, and in the heart of the faithful.
Will He be present in stone and copper, Our Frontal-eyed God?

How many places? How many houses? How many mothers?
How many parents?
Called my name to which I responded.
Perpetually teach me the arts
O! Lord Yegamba. Kamba, is it sport for you?

This foul smelling body, stuffed food for the fox:
I filled this vessell customarily with rice and curry.
O! Lord of Kachcchi!
Grant me the grace to jump over
The peacock-like women's pit of blood and shit.

Temple song-1
Remember heart! Remember!
Remember Lord Siva of the hall of reddish gold.
Remember heart! Remember!
Cherish not the false chariot and the whirlwind, which is the false life on this earth.
Cherish not the body
Those that are born will die, the dead will be born again;
What appeared will disappear, and that which disappeared will reappear;
That which enlarged will shrink, and the shrunk will enlarge;
That which is felt will be forgotten, and the ones fogotten will be perceived
That which mated will separate, and the separated will mate again.
What is eaten turns to shit, what is worn turns dirty;
What was delightful turns disgusting, and the disgusting turns delightful;
All these you realised;
You were born
birth after birth:
Killed all, and all that were slain
slew you.
You ate all, and all of them ate you;
You bore all and all of them bore you;
You cherished everything and everything cherished you;
You exulted during prosperity and wept in poverty;
Rejoiced in the pleasure and pain on this vast land;
Experienced not leaving out a single thing;
Despite that
You considered the water bubble as a bird's nest;
This mean retreat
stronger than stone.

Mother got tired of her body; I, by a mighty destiny, got tired of my feet;
Even Bramman got tired of his hand—
Lord! Siva of Iruppaiyur! Save me from reappearing
In yet another mother's womb-town.

Let the earth be cooled of its glowing embers;
Let the sky cool itself from the smoke;
Let my rare mother repose—
Let Mayan, the architect of the Asuras, rest his hands;
Let my soles cool. O! Lord of Thiruvaiyar.

Not praising the Lord who dances in the hall of Sengadu
He who enticed me with the earth, with gold, with the darkness called maya,
I was trapped in the net of those whores who blight with their bewitching eyes
and wandered like a street dog; O my heart!

Apart from nurturing this body, this nest of worms,
You didn't praise the Lord, the Immaculate teacher.
Like the fish that suffered when the flood spread in the woods
You became care-worn. O my heart!

Thiruvidai Maruthoor

When wealth leaves, mother turns an enemy;
The women I loved become severe enemies;
My own children turn enemies;
The entire world becomes an enemy;
In a moment of inquiry
Mingle yourself with the golden feet of the Lord of Maruthur:
That is liberation.

Kongana Nayanar

There is no sky without the earth.
There are no flowers devoid of some fragrance.
I am impossible without a woman.
Think of this scrupulously. You lass!

Never think of this body as a filthy carcass
Never consider it as a salt-laden vessel.
For the seers it is not filthy.
See for yourself inside your body.

As mother, she nursed me with milk
She came as the wife and gave pleasure
She turned into an affectionate sister
Transfigured into a desirable sister-in-law,
besides becoming mother-in-law too.

Siva Vakkiyar

Where is the pariah woman? Where is the high-caste woman?
Are there numbers inscribed on the skin and flesh?
Is the pariah woman's delight different from that of a the high caste woman?
Analyse the pariah woman and the high-caste woman in you.

Drawn milk doesn't return to the breast. Churned butter doesn't return to the butter-milk.
The broken conch's sound and beings don't re-enter the body.
The blossomed flower and the fallen half-ripe fruit never return to the tree.
The dead are never born. Never, never, never.

When earthen vessels tumble they keep it in order
When bronze vessels tumble they tend with care.
When our vessel sinks they forsake it because it stinks.
What an inexplicable one is your trick of mingling with the numbers?
O Lord!

Where are the temples? Where are the holy ponds?
You loathsome people who worship temples and ponds!
Temples and ponds are in one's mind.
There is neither creation nor destruction. Never, never, never.

While the boat exists one can run and ride for recreation.
While the boat exists one can determine.
While the boat is smashed,
In the incomparbale space
There is no goat, no stick, and there exists none.

There is no sampradaya without the seed, either above or below.
In what way can the palace take shape without the architect?
You ignorant one! You sell your mother and turn her into a slave!
When there is no emancipation, there is no life. Never, never, never.

As one traps the tiger with a goat
Is it fair for you to delude me showing a cow?
O! King, who killed and skinned the elephant with a stick:
You should reveal to me the way of emancipation.


Verses from Pattham Thirumurai

That was when the rainy season, summer and the dewy season synchronised
And the time the lake also dried up.
At the very moment Lord Siva taught Tamil and Sanskrit
With kindness to his consort.

The sounds of the roaring sea, bell, trumpeting of the elephant, flute
The sounds of the cloud, the droning of the beetle, the dragon-fly, the conch,
The sounds of the kettle-drum and the lute
All these ten can't be felt except by the humble.

Gone is life as the saree is torn.
The near ones became loveless.
No gifts; no loans; no celebration.
Their stride itself lacks the majesty of the city.

At break of dawn he will fill up the false pit.
Rummage for specious things that will fulfil the act.
Whatever pit you fill into,
Praise the Lord
That pit shall be filled when you are pure.

What use is it when you enjoy the women of this world?
It is the destiny inscribed in the body.
They are like the sugarcane juice outside it.
It remains like a massive neem tree in the mind.

The unread king and Yama are alike.
But Yama is preferable to the unread King.
Devoid of analysis the unread king orders to "Execute".
Yama never approaches those who are virtuous.

The Brahmins who wished to listen to Vedanta
Didn't give up their desire even after listening to it.
Vedanta is the place where desire ends.
Those who listen to Vedanta are desireless.

The young maidens resemble female elephants
And are like newly sprouted green grass glistening in the rain
Their suitable life settled well,
When god-like men arrive,
They gesture to the man who had already made love, To quit.

He ate the perfectly cooked food.
He enjoyed the creeper-like tender woman.
Said: "The chest hurts on the left side."
He stretched his limbs and lay dead.

One Race. One God.
Think of good and there is no death.
There is only one faith you can reach without shame.
Think of this to make your thought of God to survive.

He who is ignorant of sequels hand-pounds the seeds to eat.
The other one, who fries the seeds to eat is not any better.
Among the seed-eaters, there is a different one.
He does not pound but sows the seeds to reap the result.

Women become prisons for those who seek them.
The learned are in prisons by their learning.
Those penancing are in prisons because of their penance.
The self-aware who strain to reach Him are in prisons.
All these do not know the nature of the Lord.

Kudambai Siddhar

For those who live in the mountains, feeding on mango milk
Where is the need for coconut milk?—Oh! Lass Kudambai!

For those who don't have a sloping roof or a house of their own
Where is the need for Thevaram?— Oh! Lass Kudambai!
Where is the need for Thevaram?

For those who had risen above the peak and seen the high space
Where is the need for desire?—Oh! Lass Kudambai!
Where is the need for desire?

For those who had won over Yama, and analysed abstract notions
Where is the need for decoration?—Oh! Lass Kudambai!
Where is the need for decoration?

For those who sit in sincere penance
Where is the need for sacrificial fires? Oh! Lass Kudambai?
Where is the need for sacrificial fires?

For those who see the sculpted hall everyday
Where is the need for leaves? Oh! Lass Kudambai?
Where is the need for leaves?

For the real Gnani who wanders like the dead
Where is the need for the cymbals? Oh! Lass Kudambai?
Where is the need for the cymbals?

Alugani Siddhar

This body of eight spans has fourteen portals.
Five are the panchayatdhars and the towns are two.
You speak bravely. But afraid of the mandate,
I am unable to stand straight, Kannamma!
Discomfitted, I am wilting like a plant.

It is a filthy carcass and a vessel filled with salt.
To take a different birth I am unable to access the potion.
If I could get that potion for a different birth—
Casting aside this filthy body, won't I surrender at your feet

Like a smith's forge my stomach boils!
It doesn't stop when I tell it to!
For those who are capable of saying it to stop
Yama who comes to kill shall vacate this place Kannamma!

I don't know whether it is the uncle's daughter or the sister-in
But Cupid's arrow tortures me like smouldering coal.
If you become my uncle's daughter and my sister-in-law too,
Cupid's arrows shall be burnt with a single glance, My dear

I am a fearless thief, an orphan and a penitent,
Loveless harsh man, who tells lies with a full heart
A ganja addict—
Before destruction is complete
Won't you tell me not to fear
And rule over me, My beloved Kannamma?


A diagram from the "Secret Symbols"

From the Secret Symbols of the Rosicrucians