Author A. K. Ramanujan Purananuru 112 That month in that white moonlight, we had our father, and no one could take the hill. This month in this white moonlight, kings with drums drumming victory have taken over the hill, and we have no father. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments