ତ୍ରିପୁର ସୁନ୍ଦରୀ ଅଷ୍ଟକଂ (ସ୍ତୋତ୍ରଂ)

I take refuge in Goddess Tripura Sundari, who wanders in the Kadamba forest, who is a dense cloud of grace to the multitude of sages, whose hips put mountains to shame, and who is served by the celestial damsels. She has eyes like fresh lotus petals, a complexion like a fresh rain-cloud, and is the beloved consort of the three-eyed Lord Shiva.

I take refuge in Goddess Tripura Sundari, who resides in the Kadamba forest, who holds the golden lute, who wears priceless gem-studded necklaces, and whose face glows with divine radiance. She is the source of the wealth of compassion, is adorned with bright sandalwood paste, and is the beloved consort of the three-eyed Lord Shiva.

By the grace of that dark-complexioned Mother, who resides in the Kadamba grove, whose beauty is enhanced by the heavy garlands resting on her breasts, whose bosom rivals the mountain peaks, who is an ocean of infinite mercy, whose cheeks are flushed with divine intoxication, and who is eloquent with sweet music, we are playfully protected as if by a divine armor.

I take refuge in Goddess Tripura Sundari, who dwells in the heart of the Kadamba forest, who is seated on a golden throne, who resides within the six lotuses (chakras), and who shines like perpetual lightning. She rivals the red luster of the Japa flower and is adorned with the radiant crescent moon on her crest, being the beloved consort of the three-eyed Lord Shiva.

I take refuge in the daughter of Sage Matanga, who plays the Veena held against her breasts, who is adorned with curling locks of hair, who dwells in the lotus, and who is the adversary of those with crooked minds. Her eyes are reddened with divine intoxication, she enchants the enemy of Cupid (Shiva), and her speech is filled with sweetness.

I meditate on the Mother who is like a maiden in her first bloom, dressed in a blue garment stained with red, holding a goblet of honey, her eyes rolling with divine ecstasy. She is heavy-breasted, her hair flows loosely, and she is dark-complexioned; I take refuge in her, Tripura Sundari, the beloved consort of the three-eyed Lord Shiva.

In my Japa (meditation), I remember Mother Ambika, who is anointed with saffron, whose hair is kissed by musk, whose glance is accompanied by a gentle smile, and who holds the bow, arrow, noose, and goad. She enchants all beings, is adorned with red garlands and garments, and shines with the brilliance of the Japa flower.

I worship the Mother of the universe, whose hair is dressed by the consorts of Indra, whose body is smeared with sandalwood paste by the wife of Brahma (Saraswati), and who is adorned with the radiant jewels given by the consort of Mukunda (Lakshmi). She, whom even the celestial maidens serve as handmaidens, is the one I adore.