Lips so full, so red, and so very pleasant to behold! (Navavidruma-bimbaśrī-nyakkāri-radanacchadā)

In realms where beauty's essence thrives,
Where poets seek enchanting rhymes,
There dwells a vision, wondrous and rare,
The lips of Lalitha, beyond compare.

Like dawn's first blush upon the sky,
Her lips unfold, a vivid sigh,
A hue that shames the coral's grace,
Unraveling secrets none can trace.

Beyond the realms where wonders lie,
Where nature's palette longs to try,
Her lips surpass the reddest fruit,
The Bimba's glory, oh, how they dispute!

No ivy gourd, so vivid, so pure,
Can match the radiance they procure,
For Lalitha's lips, a sacred flame,
With ardor burn, her silent acclaim.

A symphony of warmth and fire,
Their essence weaves a soul's desire,
A coral's envy, they transcend,
A tapestry where hues contend.

No words can capture their vibrant spell,
A crimson tale that words can't tell,
But poets dare to dream and try,
To honor Lalitha, lips awry.

Oh, Mother Lalitha, celestial art,
Your lips outshine the world's grandest part,
In realms of beauty, you're heaven's own,
With lips that grace a mystic throne.

-Mani