by Damodara Rao Dasu

mANikya veeNAmupalAlayantim
madAlasAm manjula vAgvilAsAm
mahEndra neeladyuti kOmalAngim
mAtanga kanyAm manasA smarAmi||

chaturbhujE chandra kaLA vatamsE
kuchOnnatE kumkuma rAga SONE
punDREkshu pASAnkuSa pushpa bANa hastE
namastE jagadEka mAtah ||

mAtA marakata SyAmA mAtangi madhuSAlini
kuryAt kaTAksham kaLyANi kadamba vana vAsini
jaya mAtanga tanayE jaya neelOtpala dyutE
jaya sangita rasikE jaya leelASuka priyE ||

I heartily meditate upon Goddess Syamala the daughter of Sage Matanga. She plays on gem-studded Veena melodiously. She is Madalasa with sweet speech. Her body shines like saphire.

She has four hands. She adorns crescent moon on her head. Her breasts shine like red saffron. Her eyes are bright like lotus flower. She wields sugarcane, noose, goad, flower and arrow in her hands. I bow to Syamala the mother of all 'Lokas'.

Oh Mother Syamala, you shine like emerald. Oh Matangi, you enjoy tasty honey. Please shower your benevolent glances on me. You are ever auspicious. You dwell at Kadamba forest. Victory to Matanga's daughter Syamala who shines like blue-lotus, who engrosses in mellifluous music and who is dear to Leela Suka.