University of Mysore
September 3, 2018
अंबं तंबच्छीए अपुप्फियं पुप्फदंतपंतीए ।
नवसालिकंजियं नववहूए कुडएण मह दिण्णं ॥
The red-eyed girl gave me a mango.
The girl with flower-like teeth gave me a fig.
The young wife gave me fresh rice gruel.
संखुद्धमुद्धसारंगओ व्व कह ता पयं देमि ॥
The words of Pālitta, Sātavāhana,
and the Chappaṇṇayas are like a lion’s roar,
and I’m like a young deer.
How can I even take a step / write one word?
णिम्मलमणेण गुणगरुयएण परमत्थरयणसारेण ।
पालित्तएण हालो हारेण व सहइ गोट्ठीसु ॥
Pālitta, whose mind was pure, whose virtues were deep,
and who had the power to put the highest truths into writing,
adorned Hāla in literary gatherings (goṣṭhīs) like a necklace,
which had pure jewels, a strong cord,
and was rich in gems of the highest quality.
चक्कायजुवलसुहया रम्मत्तणरायहंसकयहरिसा ।
जस्स कुलपव्वयस्स व वियरइ गंगा तरगंवई ॥
He is like that kulaparvata the Himalaya,
and his Taraṅgavatī is like
the surging Gaṅgā River that flows from it:
pairs of cakravāka birds make it beautiful,
and causes delight
with the charm of its royal geese.
सीसं कह व न फुट्टं जमस्स पालित्तयं हरंतस्स ।
जस्स मुहनिज्झराओ तरंगवई नई वूढा ॥
How is it possible that Yama’s head
didn’t explode when he took Pālitta,
from whose waterfall-mouth
flowed the river that is the Taraṅgavatī?
प्रसन्नगम्भीरपथा रथाङ्गमिथुनाश्रया ।
पुण्या पुनाति गङ्गेव गां तरङ्गवती कथा ॥
The edifying story of Taraṅgavatī
purifies the earth like the holy Gaṅgā,
where pairs of cakravāka birds are found,
with its clear and deep waters /
clear and profound style.
को न जणो हरिस्सिजइ तरंगवईवइयरं सुणेऊण ।
इयरे पबंधसिंदू वि पाविया जीए महुरत्तं ॥
Who does not thrill to hear
of the changes of course in the Taraṅgavatī,
by the sweetness of which
the other rivers of story are also purified?
According to the attributions found in the commentaries on the Gāthāsaptaśatī, Pālitta is the second or third most cited poet in the collection. Probably about fifteen verses of his were included.
Most of those verses involve an imaginative comparison.
धाराधुव्वंतमुहा लंविअवक्खा णिउंचिअग्गीवा ।
वइवेढणेसु काआ सूलाहिण्ण व्व दीसंति ॥
The crows on the boundary fence,
With their faces bedraggled,
their wings drooping, their necks sunken,
Look as though they had been impaled.
Khoroche and Tieken’s translation (2009)
पालित्तएण रइया वित्थरओ तह य देसि-वयणेहिं ।
नामेण तरंगवई कहा विचित्ता य विपुला य ॥
Pālitta composed a long story called Taraṅgavatī,
full of regional words, intricate and extensive.
कत्थइ कवलाइं मणोरमाइं अण्णत्थ गुविलजुयलाइं ।
अण्णत्थ छक्कलाइं दुप्परिअल्लाइ इयराणं ॥
In some places it has captivating kulakas,
in others closely-bound yugalas, and in still others
ṣaṭkas that are difficult for others to understand.
न य सा कोइ सुणेई न पुणो पुच्छेइ नेव य कहेई ।
विउसाण नवर जोग्गा इयरजणो तीए किं कुणउ ॥
Nobody recites it,
nobody asks for it to be recited, nobody tells it.
It has become the special preserve of scholars.
Nobody else can do anything with it.
तो उच्चेऊण गाहाओ पालित्तएण रइआओ ।
देसीपयाइं मोत्तुं संखित्तयरी कया एसा ॥
इयराण हियट्ठाए मा होही सव्वहा वि वोच्छेओ ।
एवं विचिंतिऊणं खामेऊण य तयं सूरिं ॥
That’s why I have collected the verses that Pālitta wrote
and removed the regional words to create this abridged story,
in the hope that it will not entirely disappear
from the hearts of other people.
I beg forgiveness from that monk.
चीरकणयवलयचिलल्लियाए वामाए बाहियाए अहं ।
अवठंभिऊण चेडिं तं पउमसरं पलोएमि ॥
I held onto the maid’s left arm,
dazzling with golden bracelets,
and looked out upon the lotus pond.
उज्जाणचिंधपत्तं पेच्छामि अहं सरवरं तं ॥
I saw a pond full of pairs
of all kinds of birds that raised a loud din,
with bees crowding the charming flowers
of lotuses that grew in abundance,
completely covered in red lilies,
red lotuses, white lilies, and yellow lotuses,
a multicolored flag of the park.
संझायइ व्व रत्तुप्पलेहिं जोण्हायइ व्व कुमुएहिं ।
†गहायइ पत्त† नीलुप्पलेहिं सो य घरिणी ॥
With its red lotuses, it imitated the dawn,
with its white lilies, the moonlit night, madam,
and with its blue lotuses,
the darkness of an eclipse.
उग्गायइ व्व महुअरिरुएहि जोयइ व हंसविरुएहिं ।
णच्चइ व वायपयलियपउमविलासग्गहत्थेहिं ॥
It seemed to sing with the buzzing of bees;
it seemed to moan with the sounds of the geese;
it seemed to dance with the graceful fingers
that are the lotuses blown gently by the wind.
दिप्पयमुहरे कुररे रमियव्वयवावडाउ आडीओ ।
धयरट्ठे य पहट्ठे पंडुस्स य सोदरे पासं ॥
I saw the ospreys,
loud and proud, the mynahs trying to mate,
the joyful dhṛtarāṣṭras,
truly the kinsmen of pale Pāṇḍu.
रेहंते पउमाइं छप्पयवाहेज्जमाणमज्झाइं ।
तवणिज्जभायणाणि व तत्थ महाणिलमज्झइं ॥
When the bees crowd
into the middle of the lotuses,
they look like golden plates
with sapphires in the middle.
खोमपडधवलपिंडलियसच्छहे पुलिणसंठिए पस्सं ।
सरयज्जियगुणजाए सरट्टहासे तहिं हंसे ॥
I saw the geese there on the banks,
white as piles of linen,
a broad smile at all of the beauty
that autumn has taken on.
निययपओहरकुंकुमविचित्तरूवे य पयइआयंबे।
पियविप्पओगकाए य चक्कवाए पलोएमि ॥
I looked at the cakravākas
in their multicolored beauty:
red, with saffron-colored breasts,
dreading being separated from their mates.
सोहंति चक्कवाया पोमिणिपत्तेसु संठिया केइ ।
कारेणुकुसुमनियरे व्व हरियमणिकुट्टिमेसि ठिया ॥
Some of them were sitting on lotus leaves,
looking like heaps of karṇikāra flowers
lying on emerald slabs.
ईसारोसविरहिए सहयरिसंजोयरायरत्ते य ।
चक्कायएत्थ घरिणि मणोसिलापिंजरे पेच्छं ॥
सहयरियाहिं समग्गे पउमिणिपत्तंतरेसु रममाणे ।
There I saw cakravāka birds,
madam, who had no jealousy or anger,
but were simply delighted
to be with their companions, red as realgar,
resting on the leaves of the lotus with their companions,
lovely as pots of jewels
spilled out on emerald slabs.