Father seeds millet (foxtail millet). After the harvest what will be
your love position, the friend-maid asks to her lady.
“Go to the millet field; gourd the
yield from parrot-stealing”, your mother said. We did. Now, the hill farmers
cut the yield. What will be our future? Only the remaining stem of the millet is
standing in the field. It looks as the village yard after the festival is over.
You can’t come to the field and stay near outside with your lover. What would
happen to your future?
On hearing
these words, the lover of her lady will get her after marriage, is the aim of
this conversation.
 |
| millet field |
Poet: Kandarattanar
of Urodagan village
This is a poem of second century B.C.
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