Author A. K. Ramanujan Purananuru 118 The clear pond, once banked with boulders and round stones, curved like the eighth-day moon, now lies broken: so does cool Parampu, once the land of Pari whose arms were strong, whose spears were sharp, whose chariots gleamed. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments