It's the Dharmi the causer
With Dharma the action
To create and create alone
And how can be accosted
Than the Mother or Amma
The engendering ethereal spark Thou

And how else She be personified
Than a beauteous, enticing lass four-handed
Gripping one a rope
Another a goad
To slay off fear of death
To wrap me with Her robe of love

And my mind before Her
She to curb my senses
Touch, smell, hearing, taste and sight
With five flower-arrows gently

And when I do accost O' Mother
Arises from the fire of Knowledge
She, Devi Lalithambika, girlish and golden red
Like She when rose to slay Bandasura
The ashes shaped up of burnt Manmatha
To burke the poison mine within

Indira Renganathan