As the fish-farm cultivator transports
the fish from drying to live pond, I like to be carried to where my man is, the
girl says.
I am concealing my love-ambition when
he is away to avoid others knowing my love. The peoples are murmuring about my
love affairs openly as the waterfall in Kolli-hills under the rule of King
PasumPunPoraiyan.
King Pari used to give gifts of
elephants loaded with wealth of valuable jewels. When his Parambu-hill was
seized, he used his termed birds to fly out in the morning; and return with
paddy-yield-bunch in the evening. As the birds do, I hope, he will return. But it
was not happened. You, my mind, clear your doubts whether he will return.
He will be passing through the hill
where Damonmensch sounds like the bell sound of the oxen pulling the cart of
salt-merchants on hill route. I want to join with him. You, my mind find out
somebody to lead me there as the fish farmer carries fish from drying pond to
live-water-pond.
 |
| Modern fish-farm in Kerala, India |
The text is belongs to second century
B.C. or earlier.
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