Classic Poem

Purananuru 276

That dignified old woman,

with white hair
that has given up
all fragrant things,

and withered breasts
with nipples like eyes
crinkled as the ironwood seed,

she has a much-loved son who, all alone,

like a drop of curd
flicked by a childish milkmaid's
fingernail
curdling a whole pitcher of milk,

brought grief
to an army of enemies.