Classic Poem

You surmount the two kings just as upon the forehead of that god
with the blue black throat one eye glows along very near
the new moon that he bears in his hair, he who brought victory
to the gods of great power when he shot a single arrow at three walls
from his bow of a soaring mountain strung with a snake, O Maran you who wear
a garland of flowers! Yes, it is true that triumph grows out of the four
divisions of an army: ferocious elephants fiercely raging; horses, haughty
and of swift, varied gaits; tall chariots with their rising banners;
and foot soldiers with strength in their hearts and the passion for battle,
yet his pursuit of the high road of Righteousness is still the root cause
of victory for a king! And so for that reason, do not allow your rod of office
to be twisted out of shape by thinking of some as “my people,” nor reduce
your own virtue by doing harm to others as “mere foreigners!” but instead
in your blazing strength be as virile as the sun, in your gentleness
be as large and as cool as the moon, and be as generous as the clouds!
Great being, possessing these three virtues may you live a long life
so that no longer will there be any men who own nothing! As on the broad
and beautiful bay where Netu Vel rules at Centil washed by the white crests
of waves flowing in from the deep waters there lie all the grains
of fine black sand in the dunes raised
and amassed by the rushing wind—may your life last even more days!