Light the hanging lamp, O priest, let the bronze bell sound its call,
That my soul may thrill and reverberate to the echoes in the granite hall.
That I may soar above the chiseled stone and feel the self-same awe
The Chola in his heyday felt -a thousand years ago!
The rat-race has be barren, drained, let me drink of my heritage:
O chant aloud the sonorous hymns
From the dawn of the Vedic Age!