There is no old man in the world who
gains his last young age; how many days will I live, nobody can calculate; so, let
me spend the night pressing your breast; saying these words, he did as he says.
But, leaving his words lie, he went to the forest, where male-dove calls its
female to join, sitting on milk hedge having fruits like pebbles.
I was in my makeup in my breast with
garland made of Pittigai-flower; applying sandal-paste.
The lady
feels saying these words to her friend-maid.
Poet: Naganar
of Mupper village
This is a poem of second century B.C.

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