Classic Poem

To take home with me your necklace that glows like the moonlight—
that is the whole reason I came here, singing your praises, loudly
beating my tightly bound tatari drum! Within your crowded camp
where the glistening light of flawless swords flashed like lightning
and brought victory, where the rain of arrows poured down,
you made the field of flesh radiant with your sacrifice
on an oven of severed heads obtained with toil from enemies
who opposed you, with kuvilam wood the fuel, with ridged guts
tumbling, as a barren sacrificial priestess stirred and turned them
with severed skulls set upon sticks and cooked them up into a ball
of food that even animals would refuse and the male cook then intoned:
“May the fresh water poured from the burning mouth
suffice as if for all the guests at a wedding!” And he lifted it on high!