Classic Poem

A form like the full moon, your towering white umbrella
gives shade to the earth up to its border of timeless ocean.
Your royal drum, which is our protection, thunderously roars!
Born to the line of the Pandyas, whose hearts full of love turned
the wheel of the law, whose generosity was never exhausted!
Husband to a woman of stainless purity, whose ornaments are lovely!
Valuti is your great name, in your strong hand a bright sword!
and you do not tire at the difficult work of Death
for whom there is no cure, as you ride the huge neck of your elephant
too fierce to approach, who batters the gates
of enemy walls with the weapons of his tusks, who has a massive trunk
and a spotted forehead bearing a golden frontlet, fragrant with the liquid
of musth, and running across him a rope dangles a bell down each flank.
Should the earth itself move, your words are immovable,
with your broad chest smeared with sandalwood
and your foot wearing your war anklet of gold!
In great suffering, through vast expanses,
without cities, without any water,
where bandits with keen eyes, marksmen with infallible arrow after arrow,
wait, intent, their hands shielding their eyes from the sun,
travelers already shot down lying under fresh piles of stones
where vultures are sitting, yearning, with even wings and hooked beaks,
there along forking trails, hard to reach, where umbrella thorn grows,
those who are in need come traveling, aching with desire for you because
you are capable of knowing, just from their faces,
what they want in their hearts and so you can heal their poverty!