NOR father nor mother, nor friends nor brothers,

Nor son nor daughter, nor servants nor master,

Nor bride nor learning nor profession have I:

Thou art the refuge, thou the sole refuge, O Bhavani!

In this world, this shoreless ocean brimming with its dread

suffering,

I lie prostrate, full of desire, full of greed, full of delusion;

For ever entangled I am in the meshes of Wrong movements:

Thou art the refuge, thou the sole refuge, O Bhavani!

I know neither benefaction nor meditation nor yoga,

Nor do I know secret practices nor charms nor chants occult;

I know not rites of worship, nor the process of renouncing:

Thou art the refuge, thou the sole refuge, O Bhavani!

I know not virtue, I know not pilgrimage,

I know not liberation nor any annihilation either,

I know not devotion nor even ascetic discipline, O Mother;

Thou art the refuge, thou the sole refuge, O Bhavani!

I am a wrong-doer, wrong company, wrong-witted, wrong servant,

I have abandoned all customs of ancestors and I have embraced all wrong customs;

To see wrong, to speak wrong I am always prone:

Thou art the refuge, thou the sole refuge, O Bhavani!

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Lord of the people, Lord of the Divine Mother,

the great Lord Himself, the Lord of the Gods,

Lord of the day, Lord of the night,

I know none else among the Gods for everlasting shelter;

Thou art the refuge, thou the sole refuge, O Bhavani!

In strife and gloom, in error, in other lands,

In water and fire, in the mountains and among enemies,

In forest-ranges I seek my shelter, protect me always:

Thou art the refuge, thou the sole refuge, O Bhavani!

I have no protector, I am destitute, I am stricken with age

and ailings,

Wholly dispossessed, lowliest, ever reduced to an inert figure;

I have entered into calamity, thoroughly undone:

Thou art the refuge, thou the sole refuge, O Bhavani!

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