Sea, in its rage on existing for years
together, is rolling its wave. So, the boats used to work for long time was
stopped tying in the trunk of Gnalal and Punnai trees, on shore.
Oxen that toiled for days together were
arranged to grass in meadow by the farmers.
As the farmers did to the ox, the
fishermen did not worship the boat showing sacrificing smoke.
You are the Man of such kind of
littoral land.
Your friendship with my lady good and
best, I know. However, the friendship may slip on sometime or somehow.
Then, she will spoil as flower in
fire, leaning her shoulder and shedding tears in her eyes, as I appear before
you.
So, get her marry you, the friend-maid
of the lady says to the lover of her lady, during the clandestine period.
 |
| oxen to grass in meadow |
Poet: Ammuvanar
This is a poem of second century B.C.
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