Classic Poem

As the moonlight was waning and the Silver Planet rising,
and in many varied, handsome houses . . . . . . . . . .
the cock with spotted feathers, aware of the dawn, was crowing,
when the buds opened in the ponds and bards with their skilled hands,
knowing their art, were playing their small yals at the auspicious
moment of daybreak that sees the night fleeing, I was drumming
on my sharp-toned tatari drum that is like the moon, its long straps
resonating with their message of pleading in the ancient city of great name
where under a pavilion with a never-ending fragrance sat Vancan
whose words are always true, who pays his debts according to the merit
of those who come to him in need, a city that cannot be approached
by enemies though those who come laughing may approach it, just like
a cave hollowed in stone where a family of tigers is sleeping!
I was singing, “May you fill the bowls of those who have come
thinking of you! May you be for us a shelter that will never disappear!”
He knew I had come and for the little I had done he showed
his joy and his face filled with love. He stripped
the torn and tattered garment from my waist and he dressed me
in the fine garment that spread like smoke around his own waist.
And into my drinking dish, which had been hard put to receive
anything and had seemed only to spew up fire, he poured toddy to the top,
so clear that you could see your face reflected in it.
And not only for me but to my family he gave fried venison to eat
and elephant yams and rice with grains as long as a crane's claws,
the same to be seen on the plates he dined from and then, to spread his fame,
he gave me the necklace formed like a snake—glowing with manifold gems,
esteemed by the whole world—that lay on his mountainous chest and he gave
to me the garment embroidered with flowers clothing
his august body, the king of Payal where waterfalls resound like drums!