O Sovereign of glorious Tiruvāli, where vast assemblies of peacocks, with their magnificent plumage, dance joyously within fragrant groves! They dance, mistaking the dense, rising smoke—born from the boiling of sweet sugarcane juice—for the dark, rain-laden clouds of the monsoon season. And You, O Lord, are the very One who reclines upon the divine serpent, Tiruvanantāzhvān,