Classic Poem

The ruler of Vañci, city of victories
and of fame that reaches the heavens,
where the girls, who are without guile,
whose rounded forearms are covered with fine hair,
wear bright ornaments and pluck flowers
from curved branches for the dolls they mold
on the streaked sand, plunging then into the water
of the cool Porunai River—that king, whose victories
are sung in songs, has conquered fiercely resisting strongholds
and won the sight of his enemies' backs in flight,
and the singer who sang the Martial Courage
of that mighty king who won the sight of his enemies' backs
has won for herself a splendid ornament, shining
and heavy, and the husband of the woman who won the ornament,
a bard skilled in rhythmic song to the base note of the raga,
oh he won
for himself a flower, a golden lotus
formed in glowing fire and strung on a silver thread!