Classic Poem

Even though it was the season of heat when the moist
seed of the palmyra fruit dries out and the green fruits
of the forest margosa shrivel and the reservoirs turn
to sludge, the time when the Silver Planet turns south
in ill omen, he still said “Remember us as well, young musician!”
and that man of worth whose fame is great was generous to me!
Today he is nowhere you can go and reach him, nor anywhere
you can see him, Atanunkan who was the overlord of Venkatam
with its roaring waterfall, where they would capture an elephant calf
and tie it up in the courtyard of a fine home within a city
that encloses a hill! And its innocent mother whose head is so tender
would grieve for it! Naller Mutiyan, you who control yourself
and do not simply go where desire draws you! You too, like Atanunkan,
should give us the finest of jewels, to lift away the suffering
of my hungry family! Greatness! May your women
with their broad, soft zones of love
never hear funeral drums while they stand at their lofty gates!