It is winter when whooping cranes are
flying in the sky like the appearance of garland made of Kutalam-flowers white
in color that blooms in wet land.
I am suffering from love-sick that makes
my complexion into green. Will he knows my suffering position or not, I could
not guess. Suppose, knowing my suffering, he is not kind enough to endow mercy
upon me as I do on him. How can I take him?
The poets used to develop a kind of metaphor
the Love-Tree that grows with leaves of sex-feelings; budding with the
murmurings ear to ear of others about the clandestine relation of the lovers;
and blooming with speaking that matter openly. The Love-Tree grows in my part
kindling love feelings.
In this juncture, he is not with me.
What shall I do, the lady asks her friend-maid.
 |
| Love-Buds |
A poem by: Auvaiyar
The text is belongs to second century
B.C. or earlier.
No comments:
Post a Comment