Mothers -

Purananuru 277

The old woman's hair
was white, feather
of the fisher heron.

Her delight

when she heard
that her son fell in battle
felling an elephant,

was greater
than at his birth,

and her tears
were more than the scatter of drops
hanging from all the great swaying bamboos
after the rains
on the Bamboo Mountains.
Author of original: 
Punkanuttiraiyar
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