This is evening in winter. I am here
in my house. He is in war camp.
Flowers Musundai are blooming as stars
in cloud-less sky.
Cowherds are returning home wearing
white-Kantal flowers on head, having pole-stick in hand with their cows.
The rain water is running in the
street.
Evening music is hearing.
It is the evening in winter.
He is in king’s camp. I am here longing
for him in love-pain. He didn’t think about my position that is nature. Why he
didn’t care about him? He is sinking in the dark of elephant-cloud.
Alas!
 |
| Cowherd |
A poem by: IlanKannanar, UmbarKadu
village
The text is belongs to second century
B.C. or earlier.
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