Classic Poem

Purananuru 349

The king scrapes the sweat
off his brow
with the blade of his spear
and says terrible things.
The girl's father
rants as well
and will not speak softly.

This is their natural way of speaking.

And come to think of it,
this lovely girl,

sharp teeth, cool eyes
streaked with red,
skin the color
of young mango leaf,

this goddess,

like a fire
sparked by the wood itself,

will devastate
the very place of her birth.