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Hymns of Thayumanavar
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Oh! Foolish heart full of deceit!
When the cruel messengers of Death arrive,
Can they be for the devotees of love true?
No. Except for it be the blissful crimson feet -
That danceth in the arena -
To match the canoe shaped feet
Of the Mother that created the world,
Except for it be, none the refuge there is.
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