பேசிலவ மாமறையே பேசாத மோனத்தே
வாசியதன் போக்கதனை வாசியடா வாசியடா
வாசியற மனமறவே வாசிவையும் வந்திடுவாள்
வாசிவனே யெனவுன்னை வாசியணை மேலணைவாள்
pēsilava māmaraivē pēsāda mōnattē
vāsiyatan pōkkatanai vāsiyadā vāsiyadā
vāsiyara manamaravē vāsiyavaiyum vantidu-vāḷ
vāsivanē yenavunnai vāsiy-aṇai mēlaṇaivāḷ
The great Veda that is not (to be) spoken—within the speechless state of silence—
Know the course (movement) of the vāsi; practice vāsi, practice vāsi.
When vāsi is brought to cessation/clarity and the mind is forgotten (falls away), the “Vāsivai” will also come.
Calling you “O Vāsivan,” she will come/ascend upon the vāsi-aṇai (the couch/seat/embankment of vāsi).
The “highest scripture” is not in words but in inner silence. Attend to the subtle movement of prāṇa (vāsi) and discipline it through yogic breath-work. When the breath becomes suspended or perfectly governed and the mind dissolves into stillness, Śakti (personified as a feminine presence) arises and unites with the practitioner—recognized now as one who has mastered vāsi—by taking her place in/through the yogic seat or channel established by that mastery.
This verse equates ultimate knowledge (“mā-marai,” the great Veda) with direct, non-verbal realization (“pēsātha mōnam,” speechless silence). The instruction pivots from outer recitation to inner method: tracking and refining the “pōkku” (course/flow) of vāsi. In Siddhar usage, vāsi commonly indicates prāṇa/breath (and by extension the subtle current that can be led, restrained, or made to subside).
The repeated imperative “vāciyaḍā” stresses praxis over doctrine: the ‘scripture’ is enacted through disciplined regulation leading toward mind-cessation (“manam aṟavē”). The appearance of a feminine agent (“vand-iḍuvāḷ”) suggests a personification of the attained inner power—often read as Kuṇḍalinī/Śakti—arriving when prāṇa and mind enter laya (absorption). The last line frames the culmination as a kind of inner union: she recognizes the adept as “Vāsivan” (master/embodiment of vāsi) and ‘comes upon’ the vāsi-aṇai.
Symbolically, “aṇai” can function as (1) a couch/bed (erotic-yogic imagery for the confluence of Śiva–Śakti), (2) a support or seat (āsana-like steadiness), or (3) an embankment/dam (the controlled containment of the prāṇic current). Thus the verse can be read as pointing to a controlled prāṇa leading to mind-silence, in which the inner power rises and stabilizes in the central yogic pathway—experienced as union rather than mere technique.