Classic Poem

Akananuru 354

In encampments,

powerful elephants have fought the war,
the thunder of drums
resounds on the battleground,
the king has raised his victory banners.

Herds of cows and calves
come leaping into the forest
as herdsmen raise flutes
to their lips.

Your henchmen go rushing ahead,
the charioteer reins hard
to keep on the path
the fast-paced steeds with flying manes,

and when you return, my lord,

wounds praised by poets,
garlands on your chest,
wearing cool fragrant sandal,
smooth powders,

and enter
your house in triumphant joy,

where will it go, where
will it find a place,
that pallor
on the brow of our lady,
with eyes, lined with kohl,
darker than blue-dark flowers?