Natrinai 153

utensil maker

utensil makers

The cloud picking up the water from the eastern sea moves to western area and rains to wet the land with lightning as that of the utensil maker pours melting copper into a pot. Then, the dry cloud moves to south. As the dry cloud my mind moves to him. As a man lives alone after the peoples migrate from their village, not willing to live under the tyranny king who ruled the village after his victory I am here without him, my lover. It is a pitiful life. The heroine feels like this.

  

Poet: TaniMaganar

Poem belongs to 2^nd century B.C.

Refer the original