English

Purananuru 117

Even when black Saturn
smouldered in the sky,
even when comets smoked
and the silver star
ran to the south,

his crops would still come to harvest,
the bushes would flower,
large-eyed rows of wild cows
would calve in the yard
and crop the grass.

Because his scepter was just,

the green land knew
no lack of rains,
there were many noble men,
green-leaved jasmine
flowered

Purananuru 115

Waterfalls sounded
on one side,

and on another,

the clear liquor
spilling over
when poured into the bowls
of minstrels

would turn the stones in its stream
as it flowed,

on the hill
of that sweet man
bitter only to enemy kings
with elephants
and many spears.

But no more.

Purananuru 114

Stand here, you can see the hill;
go far away, you still see it.

Like a scatter of fiber
after an elephant's meal
was the refuse
of the wine-press there,

the flowing wine
muddying the yards
in the hill
of our great chieftain,
giver of chariots.

Purananuru 113

With your wine jars open,
rams slaughtered,
endless dishes of meat, mince, rice,
your riches primed
to give according to each receiver's wish,

you made friends with us once.

Now Pari is dead,
our hearts are muddy, our eyes are streaming;
we'll pray and bless
and take your leave,

Parampu, hill of fame,

and we'll go our ways
in search of men
who are fit to touch
the dark fragrant hair

Purananuru 112

That month
in that white moonlight,

we had our father,
and no one
could take the hill.

This month
in this white moonlight,

kings with drums
drumming victory
have taken over the hill,

and we
have no father.

Purananuru 111

The great black hill
is a strange place indeed:

inaccessible to kings
who fight with spears,

yet open to any girl
with a drum in her hand,

her eyes lined with kohl
blueblack as the water lily,

if she should come
singing.

Purananuru 109

Pari's Parampu hill
is quite a place.

Even if all three of you kings
should surround it
with your great drums of war,
remember
it has four things
not grown under the plows
of plowmen:

one, wild rice
grows in the tiny-leaved bamboos;
two, ripening jackfruit,
crammed with segments
of sweet flesh;
three, down below
grow sweet potatoes
under fat creepers;
four,
beehives break
as their colors ripen
to a purple,

Purananuru 102

The young bull
does not feel the yoke,
though the cart is loaded
with salt and things.

But who can
foresee the damages
when it dips into creeks
and climbs the hills?

So the salt merchants keep
a second safety axle
under the axletree.

You are such,

lofty one
with bright umbrellas of fame:

whoever lives in your shade,
living as under the fullest moon,

has any fear
of night?

Purananuru 157

Forbearance of kinsmen's wrongs,
a good man's shame over other men's poverty,
honor without blemish in acts of war,
courtesy in the courts of kings:
these do not fit your chieftains,
they describe only our man.

His spear deadly,
his chest widened by the full, taut drawing
of bows,
our chieftain of the mountain tribes
wears a wreath of red glory lilies
on his head.

At sunset,
where the mountain heights

Purananuru 101

He welcomes us still
as on the first of days,

though we go there
not just one day,
or two days,
but many days
with many friends,

does Atiyaman Anci
of the jeweled elephant
and the artful chariot.

Whether the time for gifts
comes right now
or is put off for later,

it's like fodder
left in reserve
on the elephant's tusk,

always there
at hand, waiting;