Purananuru 276

That dignified old woman,

with white hair
that has given up
all fragrant things,

and withered breasts
with nipples like eyes
crinkled as the ironwood seed,

she has a much-loved son who, all alone,

like a drop of curd
flicked by a childish milkmaid's
fingernail
curdling a whole pitcher of milk,

brought grief
to an army of enemies.