Classic Poem

They cannot go bathing in the huge reservoirs with their herds
of dark-skinned females, nor have they been given their rice
trampled down and rolled into balls mixed with ghee and so
the elephants strain against their strong upright posts and bend them.
Their trunks sweep the ground. Their breath is hot. Constantly shifting,
they trumpet like thunder. With no milk, children cry. Women cover their heads
that are bare because they are without flowers. Wailing voices
are heard in the fine, well-fashioned houses that have no water.
It is a painful thing how you linger here at your ease, O lord
of a powerful horse whose strength can hardly be equaled!
If you live by Righteousness, open your gates and say, “The city
is yours!” If you live by Martial Courage, open them and fight!
But if you are without Righteousness, without Martial Courage and all
you do is hide on your own grounds within your high walls
while your massive gates stay closed
and never open, do you realize how much cause for shame there is in this!