Derge Kangyur/Tengyur e-text, Esukhia/Barom edition — public domain (mechanical reproduction)
The Praise of Ārya Tārā Sragdharā is a devotional hymn addressed to the deity Tārā, structured as a series of poetic appeals for liberation and spiritual assistance. The text employs a dialectic of contrast, juxtaposing the practitioner's state of ill fortune, spiritual ignorance, and physical suffering against the supreme power and radiance of the deity. Through vivid imagery—ranging from the coolness of the Ganges to the terrifying aspects of wrathful manifestations—the work argues that devotion and the mere remembrance of Tārā's name can forcibly remove sins and overcome the limitations of a deficient human existence. The text commits the reader to a path of total reliance on the deity's grace, suggesting that Tārā possesses an omniscient capacity to understand the practitioner's needs even before they are articulated. By blending elements of longing, confession, and visualization of both peaceful and wrathful forms, the work functions as a ritual tool for transforming personal misery into spiritual attainment.
Provenance
About this text
A eulogy addressed to the deity Tārā, the Āryatārāsragdharāstotra is a devotional work of the Indo-Tibetan tradition. The text is attributed to the Indian author Sarvajñāmitra. It was translated into classical Tibetan by Candrakumāra and is preserved in the Tengyur, volume ཤ, where it spans eight pages as part of the Other Wisdom Tantras collection. In its Tibetan form, it is titled 'phags ma sgrol ma'i me tog phreng ba 'dzin pa'i bstod pa. The work enacts a poetic appeal for spiritual assistance, utilizing a dialectic of contrast that juxtaposes the practitioner's state of ill fortune and suffering against the radiance and power of the deity. Through imagery involving the coolness of the Ganges and the rising sun, the text argues that devotion and the mere remembrance of Tārā's name can forcibly remove sins and overcome the limitations of a deficient human existence. A scholar or serious reader consults this work today to examine its structure as a series of appeals for liberation and its depiction of total reliance on the deity's grace, specifically Tārā's capacity as a physician of great compassion who can alleviate unbearable suffering.
This work is significant as an example of the Tārā cult's integration of diverse iconographic forms, from the benevolent to the terrifying. It illustrates the Indo-Tibetan tradition of using poetry to express the tension between human frailty and divine potency. For the modern reader, it provides insight into the psychological and ritual mechanisms of devotion used to navigate suffering.
Structure
Passages
Section
Description
1-3
Invocation and Lamentation
The author establishes a state of personal distress and spiritual darkness, contrasting it with the rising sun and the power of Tārā to erase sins.
4-6
Illustrations of Suffering and Power
The text uses vivid, sometimes violent imagery of elephants and prisoners to illustrate the nature of suffering and the potential for spiritual elevation through devotion.
7-8
Celestial and Auspicious Visions
A shift toward the description of auspicious marks, celestial music, and the bliss of the divine gardens.
9
Wrathful Manifestations
A description of Tārā's terrifying forms, characterized by snakes, loud laughter, and the beating of the damaru drum.
10-11
Final Petition and Colophon
The author acknowledges their own inadequacy in speech and requests Tārā's intervention, followed by a note on the translation by Paṇḍita Candrakumāra.
Themes
The efficacy of devotion (bhakti) (3, 6)
Human suffering and spiritual destitution (2, 5, 10)
Divine omniscience and grace (3, 8, 10)
Iconographic duality (Peaceful vs. Wrathful) (7, 9)
Summary, significance and provenance note generated by gemma4:31b from the translation and the catalogue record.
In the language of India: Ārya-tārā-sragdharā-stotra. In the language of Tibet: ’Phags ma sgrol ma’i me tog phreng ba ’dzin pa’i bstod pa (The Praise of the Noble Tārā Holding a Garland of Flowers). Homage to the Venerable Tārā!
The eastern sun has risen, a crimson light; the supreme deity’s crown jewel is red. Adhering to that color, it is as if anointed with saffron dye. To your two feet, O Noble Lady, I prostrate with my head, my crown jewel, and palms joined in devotion. You are the mother who protects when misfortune arises; you are indeed Tārā. With this new praise, this garland of flowers, I offer worship and prostrate.
In the fire of suffering that cannot be crossed, my body constantly falls and remains. For me, a person of little fortune, what shall I do, a deluded one? Having spoken thus constantly, I have become weak and purposeless. Hearing the glorious fame of the sun and moon in the sky, I am led by the speech of others. Hearing that, like the behavior of a blind man, though I desire a support for seeing, I have no one to lead me. To you, the destroyer of sin, I desire to see refuge. For the sake of liberating all sentient beings, will you not show compassion? You show compassion to all without exception. If I am included among them, then just as you show compassion to them, please act likewise for me. Will you not act because you lack the power? There is no second like your power. You are like the sun in destroying the darkness of the sins of wandering beings. Even so, I, a miserable one, have not been burned by non-virtue; I regret the evil deeds I have committed.
I, of ill fortune, have no lot; though the sun rises, the darkness remains black. The waters of the Ganges are exceedingly cool; therefore, though I sit upon its banks, though I am thirsty, I find nothing to drink. On an island where various jewels exist, in a house filled with riches, though I dwell there, I am destitute. O Bhagavatī, though I desire a protector in you, I am without a protector. The sole mother of all the world—if a son, weeping constantly for his mother, should beg for her breast, even the mother would grow weary of him. If he begs every day without finding [what he seeks], even the father grows angry with the son. Yet, though entreated by the three worlds, you have made [your] fruitfulness complete. You, Tārā, are the supreme branch of the wish-fulfilling tree. You have pervaded all things without exception with your generosity. By the fire of all the afflictions, this body of mine is constantly burned. When this body of mine is submerged in the suffering of the subterranean realms, and when the intense suffering of sentient beings increases, may you fulfill the promise and vow you made for my sake. When the aspiration for perfect buddhahood dawns in my mind, I pray that Tārā, the benefactor, act. Raising my hands, reciting words of praise, and weeping intensely for the sake of the goal—even when requesting others, the purpose is accomplished. I have requested this of one such as you. Alas, Tārā, it is not right for you to abandon me. The moment you look upon me with your eyes, everything desired will be found.
Unbearable and unpleasant suffering,
I feared it would arise again, but it did not.
If I were a sinner,
My faith would not have increased so greatly,
Nor would devotion to you have been born.
By merely hearing or remembering your name,
Your power forcibly steals away my sins.
Please tell me the truth:
Did you abandon me for my own sake?
You are a speaker of truth,
A physician of great compassion.
Until the patient dies,
The physician increases the desire for medicine.
Carried away by deceit, stinginess, pride, and the like—
By those evils, I was swept away.
Like a camel carrying a load of paintings,
There was no leisure; without a moment’s rest,
I found no opportunity to worship
The lotus feet of Tārā.
Therefore, I recite these syllables and words;
By reciting them, I hope for benefit.
At the end of time, the wind swirls to the right,
And from its friction, waves arise.
Turbulent with the play of shifting and shaking,
Then, as the waves crash against the shore,
A resonant sound is heard.
From that terrifying ocean,
When the ship broke and I was sinking,
I let out a fierce cry of compassionate weeping.
In an instant, I became unconscious and inert.
By praising you, O Goddess,
I was safely ferried across the ocean.
Amidst circling dark clouds and smoke,
Within that fire of flickering sparks,
In a house where the flames blazed high,
A weary man lying in his bed
Joined his palms and called out to you.
In an instant, lightning flashed,
And he was quickly enveloped by rain from the clouds.
When they touched the flowing ichor from the temples of the rutting elephants, they vanished like swarms of bees. Hearing that sound, out of anger, the elephants thought they were being challenged to battle; in their fury, they raised their tusks and stood as if mounted on a palanquin. By merely remembering you, death is averted. Having crossed to the other side, one finds jewels and proceeds to dwell in a castle upon them. In a desolate, empty forest, there are many corpses with heads struck by extremely sharp weapons; many such dead bodies lie there. When one enters such a forest, those holding swords and shields, and those with bows drawn, emerge looking with sidelong glances and in a rage. Just as they come to attack and strike, one thinks of you and writes with a pen without weariness. As soon as your name is clearly written, one proceeds to dwell in a glorious home. With toes as sharp as vajras, they dig deeply; the rutting elephants' heads bleed. When the terrifying lions appear, by calling upon you and reciting praises, the lions flee in terror. With swirling smoke and terrifying forms, the terrifying ones brandish [weapons] and blaze intensely. Always piercing and with mouths agape, the wrathful serpents show their great tongues. People bound by the noose of Yama come to be thus through the power of their sins. At that time, your qualities are proclaimed; with devotion, one places faith in you. That snake becomes a garland of utpala flowers, which the person who makes the flower offering obtains.
Fearing that the official’s eyes might twitch, the ranks of the terrified soldiers bound him with ropes and dragged him by his hair. As they led him away, hauling him with harsh force, that servant suffered great pain. Desiring to utter cries of distress, he was abandoned by his close relatives. When he was tormented by hunger and thirst, his lips parched and boundless suffering having arisen, he took refuge at the feet of Tārā. In an instant, he was released and liberated.
An ugly form created by illusion, with the entrails of a human corpse stuffed inside and many garlands hung around the neck—when such a thing appeared that no one could stop, your mantra alone purified the sins by the mere act of reciting it. When the rākṣasas were about to lose their senses, they were made to guard him. When the forms of clouds appeared with thunder, and the three terrifying, arrogant, and fierce ones emerged, amidst the pitch-black darkness, the weapons appeared like lightning. When a rain of arrows fell, you surrounded and blocked them at the time of battle. When the extremely powerful enemies came to strike in a rage, by the strength you bestowed, O Tārā, a single hero defeated them all. He brought the territories under his own control.
The form of a leper, filled with sin, his body swollen with blood, pus, and lymph, which oozed out, piercing the veins, flesh, and skin, and being eaten by worms—by relying on your feet, O Tārā, and always practicing devotion to you, that very devotion became his medicine. His body turned the color of gold, and his eyes became like a full-blown white lotus.
By that, one obtains a body of beautiful form. Yet, because one’s ears were not a fit vessel for the instructions of the masters, one becomes destitute of the wealth of learning. That mute one among spiritual friends, by offering you devotion and praise, seizes the lion throne of the eloquent. Having seized it, in the presence of the king, adorned with various ornaments, he sits upon the lion throne of the Lord of Speech. [The other] sleeps on the ground, covered in dust; the color of his body turns to smoke; his body is not covered by tattered rags; he constantly kills lice and nits; in the presence of others, he holds a broken bowl; he constantly begs for alms. O Tārā, when he merely takes refuge in you, the beautiful woman certainly smiles and fans him with a lovely yak-tail whisk. Having become the master of powerful elephants, he holds a single parasol. By a mere painting, he becomes a king. Others seek wealth through service, labor, qualities, trade, and means. No matter what they do, they have no wealth from the virtuous riches of their previous lives; they find nothing even when begging from anyone. Alas! When they merely beg from you, they find treasure in the depths of the earth, and that person becomes wealthy. Lacking a livelihood, they are deeply ashamed; lacking clothes, they are rebuked by their wife; being destitute, they are abandoned by their kin. Thinking they must give, they go far away. Alas, Tārā, when they merely show you their own suffering, the horses dig their hooves into the earth; having dug there, they circle the house, and in that delightful royal palace, they fall into a deep sleep.
The beauties are renowned for their hand-ornaments; by them, sleep is overcome and awakening found. The wheel that has appeared in the ten directions is endowed with intense radiance. There are women possessing the [auspicious] marks, and elephants with six tusks. There are excellent horses with the color of a peacock’s neck, and jewels with the brilliance of the sun. Filled with stainless treasures, with many heroic warriors, through your grace, O Tārā, he has become a universal monarch (cakravartin).
In the Malaya garden, there are precious jewel-stones. Upon them, sandalwood and the like are applied, and goddesses gather there. Just as offerings are made at a guest-house, they play with intense passion. O Tārā, your knowledge is accomplished. The sword of the Lord of Gods, the Vidyādhara, with its green light, was snatched from Subāhu; brandishing it again and again, he attains the form of a beautiful god. Adorned with beautiful strings of pearls, they are fastened between the breasts. An utpala flower is fastened to the ear, as if competing with the eyes. A mandārava flower is fastened in the topknot; the fragrant bees cannot leave it. Beautiful tinkling bells are fastened to the waist. Upon those two excellent feet, jingling sounds and bells are fastened. O Tārā, when you bestow your blessing, it is like the joy of a god of desire. Meeting him, the goddesses offer service. The pond banks are surrounded by jewels; upon those golden lotuses, the filaments blaze with diamonds. There is that pārijāta tree—
Slightly bent, fragrant, and red, it then spreads out like a canopy. The gods play sweet music upon the tamboura, drums, and other instruments. "By your grace, O Tārā, we have played for a long time in the celestial gardens and experienced supreme bliss." With camphor, cardamom, aloeswood, incense, and perfumes, these are ground and mixed with water; they are sprinkled with these fragrant waters. Between the two breasts of the goddess, the swift waters of the celestial Ganges splash back and forth in play. Through your grace and merit, O beautiful goddess, we have enjoyed our play in the divine realms. The gods dwelling in the higher realms respectfully receive your commands upon the crowns of their heads. Having offered prostrations in return, the elephant-keepers, adorned with ornaments, wear bracelets upon their two hands. When the elephant merely stretches its trunk, the riders are unable to restrain it and their hair stands on end. When you merely look upon those who wear diamond hand-ornaments, they attain the status of Śakra, Lord of the Gods, and are protected by the divine hosts. Upon the Buddha's teaching, precious flowers rest upon their crowns, and the sky is covered by a glorious canopy. Like the light of the rising sun, it fills the three worlds. With one leg drawn in and the other extended, you trample upon Brahmā, Maheśvara, and Viṣṇu. By meditating on your body, the terrors of cyclic existence will not arise again; the taking of rebirth has been severed.
Some see her thus: holding a forest as a weapon in her hand, she is most terrifying and of great power, her bracelets filling the sky. They see her as many snakes of great dread, alas, who terrify in their wrath. Her laughter is most terrifying; she performs wicked deeds. She beats the ḍamaru drum and the tintinika cymbals; she proclaims the great sound of her terrifying play. Some see that from each and every pore of Tārā, she sustains the worldly beings: the Brahmās who dwell in bliss, Śakra the lord of gods, Maheśvara, the nāgas and so forth, gods, humans, siddhas, gandharvas, yakṣas, and serpents, and even the wheel that wanders through the directions—all dwell in that house of the Sugata. Alas, she of such great miraculous power, who is prostrated to by the three worlds! Alas, she who dwells in the moving and the unmoving! All various things without exception—alas, you are Tārā! Some see her as lac and vermilion, white and red in color like the sun, resembling glorious indranīla. Some see her as like the white foam of the ocean of milk; some see her as the color of gold. They see your form in various ways, like crystal, in whatever form is desired. She is the lamp of wisdom, the omniscient one; by her, everything is seen clearly. She is the knower of reality, the single sovereign sense; the omniscient one knows all your qualities without exception, or else her son knows them.
When I opened my mouth, with a voice like a crow’s,
And was pervaded by the heat of suffering,
Just as that pain arose, I recited
Like a crow speaking; it was a cause for laughter in the minds of others.
Regarding the meaning of what I requested,
You already knew it even before I asked.
To speak of what you already know
Is to say that my request was pointless.
Nevertheless, for the sake of my own mind’s joy,
Before my close kinsman, I spoke
As if vomiting out my very poison.
Though you already knew the meaning of my suffering,
It was as if my own heart became light and at ease.
The ocean of joy in your benefit
Is like the aspect of the moon, most clearly radiant.
O Beautiful One, I pray you look upon me!
I pray you grant the wisdom of your instructions.
You, the Great Compassionate One,
Please illuminate this darkened mind.
By the water of your praise,
My mind has been washed clean.
I have found a single source of benefit.
Through this praise, I see that the welfare of beings
Will indeed attain its fruit.
The portion of merit from this supreme praise
I do not know how to describe.
By the power of that merit,
May all worldly beings accomplish their aims
And experience the bliss of liberation.
Upon the soles of Avalokiteśvara’s feet,
Filled with the auspicious marks,
Lies the footprint of the Sugata’s Son.
May all beings who go from bliss to bliss
Go swiftly and dwell in happiness.
The Praise of the One Holding a Garland of Flowers, composed by the master Sarvajñāmitra, is complete.
Translation status: Not among 84000's published translations. A bibliography of the canon lists 2 English-language publication(s) on this text, e.g. Vidyabhusana, Satis Chandra, Sragdharā Stotra of Bhikçu Sarvajña Mitra of Kāśmîra (1908). Calcutta: Asiatic Society, xxx, 273 p. (Bibllndica 166){Bauddha-Stotra-Sarñgraha I), p. 114-126 — these may include a full or partial translation. (source: 84000 catalogue + registry; checked 2026-11-10).
Set in Newsreader and EB Garamond; Tibetan in Noto Serif Tibetan; Chinese in Noto Serif SC.