Classic Poem

Yours is the chieftain of great Mavilankai where girls
with shining bangles dig up the black earth in play
where a boar has scored it and discover tortoise eggs
with their meatlike aroma and tubers of the waterlily
that smell like honey in that land where the sluices
are roaring! Yours is that Nalliyak Kotan who wears words
of praise sung for him by poor men who play upon
their small yals and so, my destiny, may you flourish!
When my heart considers the days I spent not seeing him as if
someone in Pari's city of Parampu were to ignore the clear water
of those cool springs only because they rise within
the selfsame city, then it feels uneasy for the days to come,
thoughtful whenever it senses his supremely gentle benevolence.