Classic Poem

The drums have forgotten their drumming clay. The yals have forgotten their ragas.
The giant pots lie over on their sides and have forgotten how to hold the ghee.
His followers have forgotten the pure toddy around which the bees would gather.
The plowmen have forgotten how they used to raise an uproar and the villages
with their broad streets have forgotten how to carry out their festivals!
Just as on the great day when the moon has grown full and the two spheres of light
stare one at the other and then one of them vanishes over the mountain out
into the empty evening, so in shame after having taken a wound in the back,
although from a worthy opposing king who had thought to take aim at his chest,
that ruler of imposing Martial Courage now is seated next to his sword. He has chosen
to sit on the ground, facing the north! And here by day,
when the sun is shining, time does not go by as the time of day once did before.