I now call to mind Hanuman, the son of the wind god, gladdening to contemplate, who is free of all sensual desires, who sheds tears of joy and is filled with rapture, who is the purest of the pure and the first of Rama's messengers. I think of Hanuman, whose face is like the lotus, red like the rising sun, the corners of whose eyes are full of the feeling of mercy, who is life-giving, whose greatness has the quality of beauty, who personifies Anjana's good fortune. I seek refuge in the one who flies faster than the arrows of madana, whose eyes wide as the petals of the lotus are filled with kindness, whose neck is smooth and well-formed as the conch shell, who represented good fortune to the wind god, and whose lips are bright-red like the bimba fruit. May the form of Hanuman come resplendent before me, the one that dispelled Sita's grief, that brought out the glory of Shri Rama's prowess, that tore Ravana's reputation into shreds. I saw the leader of the Vanara (monkey) populace, the one who was (inimical) like the sun's rays to the (night-blooming) lily of the Danava people (the demonic race), who is dedicated to the protection of those in distress, who was the culmination of the accumulated penances of Vayu. He who recites this hymn to Hanuman, will become one with the devotees of Shri Rama after enjoying for long the pleasures of this world.