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Monday, 22 August 2016

Agananuru 192

Millet yield 
Her face changes into puberty. It shines like moon without its stain. Wow! What will happen to her?  The friend-maid adds. Millet yields. The leaf of the yield is like rainbow. The parrots and elephants are ready to eat destroying. You, the Man of the hill! You are coming here to get your lover’s bliss at midnight. It seems impossible, because the streets are bright in light from the gems that the flood brought here. They are gems that cobra spits. (A customary belief). The peoples can see your secret dealings.  

With these words she hints him to meet her at millet field where she will be guarding.

A poem by: Podumbil Kilan Vennaganar
The text is belongs to second century B.C. or earlier.


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