My bangles are slipping down. My labia
majors lost their brim. My forehead lost its beauty. My thoughts are pondering
upon him. It is my love-sick. My mother without knowing the fact calls a priest
of God-Murugan to cure my sick. It is alright if the sick be cured by his
rolling of omen-marbles. It is my heart pondering upon my lover. It is a love
pain. Will it be cured by his mockery treatment house festival on Velan-God?
The lady asks
her friend-maid.
 |
| labia majors கோடு ஏந்து (பக்கம் உயர்ந்த) அல்குல் |
Poet: Nallur
SiruMedaviyar
This is a poem of second century B.C.
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