The friend-maid consoles her lady.
He who leaves you here to suffer at
present, how he behaves with you earlier is to be considered.
He was waiting at the ghosts moving midnight,
at your door-step as the artists waiting at the philanthropist’s gate seeking elephant
gift. It is your door decorated with art-curving. When the watchmen sleep, he
entered into your house, and enjoyed you hugging. He praised you showering
sweet words: ‘there is no one in the world to compare with your beauty’ fondling
your hair. At present he is away. It is the region of Pulli, the king. It is
the country where the peoples host the passers-by feeding tamarind-food, they
used to carry in bamboo-hole tie hanged under the neck of cattle bull. Even if
he is there, he will not live there, beyond the time of limit. Don’t worry.
 |
| He praises her on bed |
A poem by: MaMulanar
The text is belongs to second century
B.C. or earlier.
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