śrī hanumadaṣṭakam

You who dwell at the lotus feet of Śrī Raghu-rāja, O lotus-eyed treasury of all auspiciousness, O wise one with fierce mighty arms that shatter the enemy-gods, O compassionate one — lift up this sinner. For the honor of the great and the virtuous is ever magnanimous. O Hanumān, cloud of compassion, grant me servitude at your lotus feet, to me who worship you. (1)

My body's hairs are scorched beyond endurance by the great fire of worldly suffering; my mind is attached to sons, wealth, kinsmen, body, home and the like — ensnared in its sinful form. Yet by some tiny spark of merit accumulated in the past by some holy being — O Lord, O Hanumān, cloud of compassion, grant me servitude at your lotus feet, to me who worship you. (2)

I have fallen into the fathomless, terrible, incessant well of worldly existence — the boundless root of all affliction — and my entire body writhes with the venom of a thousand-armed serpent of acute sorrow. A miserable wretch gone to ruin, fallen into the ocean of rebirth — O Hanumān, cloud of compassion, grant me servitude at your lotus feet, to me who worship you. (3)

I am tormented by the great fierce fish of Time in the vast and terrifying ocean of worldly existence, my mind distracted and distressed; the mighty whirlpool of passion has robbed me of my very life-breath. O Hari, lift me up — wretched, with no other refuge, oppressed by the crushing waves of all-consuming Time — O Hanumān, cloud of compassion, grant me servitude at your lotus feet, to me who worship you. (4)

Wandering in this terrifying dense forest of worldly existence, my body adorned with gems of virtue yet torn asunder by the ferocious beast of desire — my outward mind tormented by the burning affliction of envy — O Hanumān, cloud of compassion, grant me servitude at your lotus feet, to me who worship you. (5)

The tree of worldly existence has hundreds of roots of countless sins, infinite branches of evil deeds, fruit of suffering, leaves of the senses, blossoms of passion — its root inconceivable. Climbing this tree, I fell, O Hari — deliver me who have come to you as refuge, a fool who has fallen. O Hanumān, cloud of compassion, grant me servitude at your lotus feet, to me who worship you. (6)

My body scorched by the terrible poison of the serpent of worldly existence, filled with fear as life departs, utterly slothful, masterless, and deeply despondent — fallen into the great cave of delusion, a slave to ungoverned senses and desire — O Hanumān, with your compassion lift me up. O cloud of compassion, grant me servitude at your lotus feet, to me who worship you. (7)

The great wealth of discriminating knowledge has been stolen by the thieving band of the senses; I have been trapped in the net of worldly existence, my body torn apart by the mighty ones. I who have taken sole refuge at your matchless lotus feet — save me quickly, O Lord of monkeys, O compassionate one! O Hanumān, cloud of compassion, grant me servitude at your lotus feet, to me who worship you. (8)

Brahmā, the Maruts, Rudra, Mahendra — their gem-studded diadems bow at the footstool of the son of Daśaratha (Rāma), whom all this earth-realm eternally enshrines in the lotus of the heart while ever repeating his name. This auspicious eightfold hymn of Hanumān, remover of all evil — whosoever recites it always shall attain dwelling at the lotus feet of Achyuta-Rāma. (9)