Classic Poem

The king with his desire for her is in a burning rage.
Her father, though it is his duty, will not let her go.
The elephants, great rings ornamenting the tusks set high
on their shining faces, have been unleashed from the sacred tree.
Warriors of both factions have shut their mouths and raised
their gleaming swords. The range of instruments sounded surpasses
the knowledge of musicians! It is sad how this ancient city, well protected,
hard to conquer, has fallen into such turmoil! This mother is evil
and surely has no principles for she created this quarrel, blithely
raising those young, erect breasts until they reached their present beauty.
Not as yet full grown, they are as lovely as the buds
of a flowering red cotton tree on Venkai Mountain, which are emblems of victory!