Shri, the auspicious goddess,
plays on his chest,
adorned with the eternal Vaijayanti
and the sparkling Kaustubha gem.
May that Venkateshvara
bless the son of Narasa,
King Krishnaraya.

When women lift up Parvati, the young bride,
to pour rice on Shiva’s head,
she sees her own reflection in the Ganga
and is sure there’s another woman. She’s jealous.
Shiva smiles. May he bless
Krishnaraya with vast power.

May the elephant god bestow
a mind as sharp as the tip of his tusk,
glory as high as his temples,
and energy equal to his youthful splendour.
With the gesture of his auspicious trunk,
may he bless Krishnaraya with long life.

To end their lovers’ quarrel,
Vishnu touches his bow, discus, sword, and conch
on Lakshmi’s waist, hips, hair, and neck,
and she’s happy now.
May she always look kindly upon Krishnaraya,
the best of kings.

Sarasvati sings
gently plucking her vina’s strings,
as if coaxing them
to follow the song in her voice.
May the light of her music
fill the heart of my king,
Krishnaraya.

He adorns the head of Shiva,
the son-in-law of the Snow Mountain,
he gives life to all the gods,
he is a source of endless coolness,
he is the vine that blossoms into light,
he is the son of the milky ocean.
May the moon shower Krishnaraya
with streams of compassion.

The moon gave birth to Budha, and Budha to Pururava. Pururava’s son was Ayuvu. Ayuvu’s son was Nahusha. Nahusha’s son was Yayati. He, in turn, gave birth to the great warrior Turvasu.

In that great family of Turvasu, a king called Ishvara was born.
He destroyed the pride of the strong arms of his bad enemies.

Ishvara, the god, is inactive. He’s often violent. He’s only half a man. He has a king, the moon, over his head. He lost to Arjuna, a mortal, in battle. The god Ishvara can’t compare to our king Ishvara, dear to the earth.

They say that Parashurama killed every warrior and made their blood flow into a few pools. What’s so great about that? Our king Ishvara fought a huge battle, conquering Bedanda fort. The blood that streamed from the Yavana soldiers filled thousands of rivers.

Excerpted with permission from Theft of a Tree: A Tale by the Court Poet of the Vijayanagara Empire, Nandi Timmana, translated from the Telugu by Harshita Mruthinti Kamath and Velcheru Narayana Rao, Murty Classical Library.