Yajamahe the prince who left the golden throne, To sit in silence, motionless, alone. Through direst pain, with equanimous grace, The effulgent one, the refuge of our race.
Yajamahe the healer of the poisoned sting, Of anger, pride, deceit—each deadly thing. As Dharanendra shielded you from rain, Lift your devotees from sorrow’s chain. Yajamahe Parshwanath Stotram
Yajamahe the lotus-eyed, the calm and pure, Whose canopy of seven hoods makes fear obscure. O Lord of snakes, destroyer of inner night, We bow to you, the source of wisdom’s light. Yajamahe the prince who left the golden throne,
Yajamahe the mantra’s hidden seed, "Om Hrim Parshva" – fulfilling every need. Your gaze bestows the four-fold gift so grand: Right faith, right knowledge, right conduct – close at hand. To sit in silence