Invocation

Ramanujadasan

To the one to Whom everything belongs,
To the one worshipped in prayer and songs,
To the one sought by the learned and the laity,
Salutations to Him, Who is touched by piety.

The eye see without seeing,
The presence of that Supreme Being,
In the depth of the darkest night,
At the threshold of evening twilight.

Ears are those that do not hear,
Neither from far, nor from near,
His voice in the black owl's hoot,
And in the notes of the bamboo flute.

The taste lingers on the tongue,
But the mind lets it go unsung,
His touch in the bitter root,
In the drip of the juiciest fruit.

Blest are those who have known,
Smelt Him and His lasting presence,
In the humble tumbling stone,
In the smoke of fragrant incense.

Wretched is the skin that does not feel,
The touch of the Lord who spinneth the wheel,
In the heat of the roaring fire,
In the waft of the autumn zephyr.

Unto Him:
In the midst of the three - you let yourself be,
Lif the darkness and let me too see,
You, who sustains all Creation,
And grant me unto you everlasting devotion.