Classic Poem

Tirumurukarruppatai: 6

Where goats are slaughtered,
where grains of fine rice are offered
in several pots with flowers,
and His cock-banner is raised
in the festival of festivals
for many towns around;

wherever devotees praise
and move His heart;

where His spear-bearing shamans
set up yards
for their frenzy dance;

and in forests, parks,
lovely islets in rivers,
streams, pools, certain spots
like four-way crossroads, meeting places,
cadamba oaks in first flower;

in assemblies under the main tree
and in town halls;

in sacred pillars;

and in the awesome vast temple
where the daughter of the hill tribe
worships

raising a banner with His splendid bird on it,
patting white mustard seed into ghee,
chanting wordlessly her special chants,
bowing
and scattering flowers,
wearing two cloths
different in color and kind,
threads of crimson on her wrists,
scattering parched grain
and offering soft white rice
mixed with the blood
of strong fattened large-footed rams
in small offerings in several dishes,
sprinkling sandal fragrances
with yellow turmeric,
cutting together red oleander
and big cool garlands
and letting them hang,

blessing the towns
on the rich hill-slopes,
offering the sweet smoke of incense,
singing kurinci songs
while the roar of waterfalls
mixes with the music of instruments,
spreading red flowers,
spreading fearful blood-smeared millet,

where the daughter of the hill tribe
sounds Murukan's favorite instruments
and offers worship to Murukan
till He arrives
and comes into her
to terrify enemies and deniers:

in that place then
they sing till the dancing yards echo,
they blow all the horns at once,
ring all the crooked bells,
bless His elephant
with a peacock-shield on his forehead
who never runs from battle.

There
the suppliants offer worship,
ask and ask
as if to ask is to be given already.

He dwells in all such places
and I speak what I truly know.