Purananuru - Part 373
You who have won the victory, with your great army of warriors
who are happy to suffer the anguish of being wounded as if
they were being squeezed tight by an uplifted sword
glowing and dripping with blood, O king with your vast camp
where the royal drum roars like thunder, where the elephants,
well trained in combat, are clouds, the horses and chariots
falling are drops pouring down to break apart at the touch
of earth, and the fearsome arrows are a whirling wind! …
… As if they were peahens with huge circles on their feathers
and innocent eyes who walk around bewildered, women with their soft arms
wander, leaving their long-walled mansions empty, each by herself,
yet do not enter the courtyard to take their own lives but thrill
at the wounds! . . . . They wished long life to the horses
with decorated manes and came under your shade, finding the shade
of fame nowhere else! Children with wisps of hair on their heads
and fine chest ornaments, if they lose their play arrows, not seeing
the faces of their fathers and elder brothers. . . . On the field of battle
where the kings fled and fell and died, he did not charge with the sword
but he, a killer, pressed on like fire swallowing houses and he speared
an elephant to the ground so that its tusks shattered like a mountain
where thunder and lightning has struck. But then they charged
and attacked him and he took a grave wound. The healers
saw this and their eyes flooded. O greatness! That courtyard
in Vañci had become a field of victory! You had that land
of the west trampled flat, destroying the stacks of men
who had been warriors free of fear! May the broad field
glow where your royal drum resounds! The great poets say
that they go to every field where there are highborn,
resplendent kings, to glorify them and there win elephants
with spotted faces! Though I have little skill, I also drum
on my black kinai drum with its handsome eye and with love
I sing your praises, for there are no others like you in this world,
O greatness! and I have come to win gifts that you have gained
from the strong walls of your opponents! You are a lord
whose virility is exalted even by your enemies! And you have
the virtue of giving flawless help to those who are your friends!
You who are the master of the field of terrifying breadth where
a pack of foxes wanders together with demons
and is joined by the red-eared eagle that has tasted human fat!
who are happy to suffer the anguish of being wounded as if
they were being squeezed tight by an uplifted sword
glowing and dripping with blood, O king with your vast camp
where the royal drum roars like thunder, where the elephants,
well trained in combat, are clouds, the horses and chariots
falling are drops pouring down to break apart at the touch
of earth, and the fearsome arrows are a whirling wind! …
… As if they were peahens with huge circles on their feathers
and innocent eyes who walk around bewildered, women with their soft arms
wander, leaving their long-walled mansions empty, each by herself,
yet do not enter the courtyard to take their own lives but thrill
at the wounds! . . . . They wished long life to the horses
with decorated manes and came under your shade, finding the shade
of fame nowhere else! Children with wisps of hair on their heads
and fine chest ornaments, if they lose their play arrows, not seeing
the faces of their fathers and elder brothers. . . . On the field of battle
where the kings fled and fell and died, he did not charge with the sword
but he, a killer, pressed on like fire swallowing houses and he speared
an elephant to the ground so that its tusks shattered like a mountain
where thunder and lightning has struck. But then they charged
and attacked him and he took a grave wound. The healers
saw this and their eyes flooded. O greatness! That courtyard
in Vañci had become a field of victory! You had that land
of the west trampled flat, destroying the stacks of men
who had been warriors free of fear! May the broad field
glow where your royal drum resounds! The great poets say
that they go to every field where there are highborn,
resplendent kings, to glorify them and there win elephants
with spotted faces! Though I have little skill, I also drum
on my black kinai drum with its handsome eye and with love
I sing your praises, for there are no others like you in this world,
O greatness! and I have come to win gifts that you have gained
from the strong walls of your opponents! You are a lord
whose virility is exalted even by your enemies! And you have
the virtue of giving flawless help to those who are your friends!
You who are the master of the field of terrifying breadth where
a pack of foxes wanders together with demons
and is joined by the red-eared eagle that has tasted human fat!
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