Classic Poem

Though all the world may praise the generosity of Kuttuvan,
the lord of Venkutai whose fields are filled with luxuriant grain,
whose chest smeared with sandal paste is burly from drawing the bow,
in whose hands strength rests, whose sword never fails,
yet give up your thoughts of going to him, poets of lofty speech!
I as well, at dawn, when the darkness and the moonlight were over,
played softly for him on my black kinai drum with its single eye
and in honor of his father who rode a fine chariot, whose royal drum
had roared, I sang for him a Vañci song of invasions.
Happiness filled his heart and he showed desire for me to approach him
and he gave me an elephant not yet calmed down after a kill,
sending out a stench from its tusks covered with blood, tossing
its body in anger! In terror I refused it, and he, ashamed, thinking
I felt it was too little, ordered an elephant brought to me that was
yet more immense! And so, because of that, even if my large family,
which has been burned dark under the sun, may suffer, I have realized
the gifts that he gives you cannot approach!
and I have never gone back to that land of his, with its hills.