She speaks to her friend, overheard by her lover. Fearing the danger to him of his nightly visits, she hints at a way they can meet by day. She said:
What if you did say to him
that mother has told us
to go and shoo away the little parrots
with hooked beaks
from the ripened millet?
And what if you did tell
this mountain prince
that he should not keep on coming
in the deep darkness at dead of night
when a great male tiger
with stocky legs and deadly fangs
wounded by his mortal enemy
the powerful elephant with his long trunk
might be roaming the fields,
stalking an easy prey
in the green-eyed wild dog?
What of it?
(141)
He said:
Does she know, this young girl
(142)
Her friend said:
You need not be sad,
(143)
Her foster mother said:
She doesn't gather blue water lilies
(144)
She said:
It's no longer any kind of place
(145)
Her friend said:
Well, bless you, my dear.
(146)
On awaking from a dream about his beloved, he said:
You gave her to me,
(147)
Her friend's assertion that the cold weather really hasn't come yet carries no conviction for her. She said:
If you're telling me
(148)
It is time to elope with her lover. She laments the loss of her natural female modesty. She said:
The pity of it!
(149)
She said to her friend:
How can it be
(150)
Having second thoughts about leaving his love to seek his fortune, he speaks to his heart. He said:
You didn't stop to think
(151)
She said:
They know nothing
(152)
She said:
My heart
(153)
She said:
Where did he learn it, my friend?
(154)
She said:
Well, that time is here
(155)
He said:
Sir Brahmin, Sir Brahmin,
(156)
It is her time of the month and custom demands that she spend the next three days separated from her lover. She said:
Cock-a-doodle-do
(157)
Fearful that the storm will prevent her lover from coming, she addresses the rain, scolding it for thus causing pain to a defenceless girl such as herself. She said:
Great rainstorm,
(158)
Not knowing of her secret love, her relatives bemoan the fact that she has arrived at maturity without a suitor, A ware that her lover is nearby and will overhear what she says, her friend speaks to her:
'Her fair and tender bosom
shooing away parrots
in the millet fields,
with eyes like lotus flowers,
and wearing a garland of water-lilies
plucked from the small hill tanks,
or does she not know,
how, at dead of night
my heart, heaving a deep sigh
like an elephant
settling down onto its litter
has chosen to remain behind,
with her.
bright jewel of a girl,
because he too is very sad,
your lover from the rich hills
and what's more
he fears for his good name.
The only thing that is permanent
is impermanence, they say -
so, like the wealth of a generous man
who cares for his reputation
and holds love in his heart,
it can't last, this pallor
which has spread
over your delicious body.
in the shallows any more,
nor does she dance amidst
the white-crested waves as they break.
Forgetting her faithful band of friends
each with their favourite game,
she has deserted these pathways
and is following that other track
strewn with sharp stones,
in a country where mountains
range upon range
raise their glittering peaks heavenward
into banks of rolling cloud.
for us to live in,
this little village by the seashore.
It's full of people who sleep soundly
not thinking
to enquire after someone
who lies awake at midnight
suffering unbearable agony,
thinking about the cruelty of her lover
from those palm-fringed shores.
And besides
the nights here last far too long.
Listen - those in our village
have turned their attention
to uniting those who were separated.
Out there in the assembly
our people are saying:
'This is indeed a great day',
to their people
who leaning on sticks
turbans bound around their grey hair,
are saying 'Yes, yes' to everything.
my girl
with her finely wrought jewellery
and her beautiful dark skin,
covered with fine downy hairs,
like the filaments
of the curving trumpet flower
in spring -
or so it seemed,
until you woke me, Dream,
from a blissful sleep.
Oh, how they will despise you
those who are parted from their love!
that this isn't the rainy season -
with trees swaying together
in the freezing cold,
kurunthu and kondrai trees
with fresh buds
which look like those shiny little bells
split like gaping frogs' jaws
on the golden ankle bracelets
worn by little rich children
on their tiny feet,
then let my hear from you also
that all this is just a dream.
Just as those little ridges of sand
banked up high
and planted with sugar cane
with its white flowers
are worn away by the flood
until they collapse and dissolve
into the sweet waters,
this modesty
which has suffered with us
for many a long day
has borne as much as it can stand
and has deserted me at last
before love's onslaught.
that my heart is filled with pain
when I think of my lover
from the land of high mountains
where at night
watchmen high up in the tree tops
light fragrantly smoking torches
which twinkle here and there
like stars in the distant heavens -
yet when he holds me
against his broad chest
smeared with dried sandal-paste
the pain is no more?
how hard it would be
on these narrow mountain paths
where a red-legged stork
seeing a hawk
swooping to the attack
looks round for her mate,
and not seeing him
cries out for help -
short staccato notes,
modulated like a flute.
You just thought you'd go,
leaving behind her
whose memory never leaves me.
A thought which could easily
cost me my youth, out here.
those who lecture me,
for love is like a baby turtle
whose gaze never leaves its mother
and what else could love do,
locked inside
like an egg
abandoned on the nest
but wither away,
when the object of that love
leaves it helpless and undone?
was wont to shiver with fear
at the hoot of a mountain owl
or the sound of a male monkey
leaping and crashing
through the great branches
of the jack-fruit tree in the yard.
But, alas, no more –
for now it travels with him constantly
on that long journey
across mountain slopes
cloaked in impenetrable darkness.
After he went off
into that arid wasteland
where in the midday sun
a shimmering heat haze rises up
like the sloughed skin of a snake
poised for the strike,
and a she-dove
with her spotted throat
and short scurrying gait
perches, sad and alone
on the branch of a kalli tree
pretty with all its fruits burst open,
sending her plaintive cry
across the parched forest
calling to her mate
whom hunger has driven off
in search of food -
where did he gain the strength
to stay far away, like this?
when the ploughmen
have cleared off the old crops
and return in high spirits,
their little seed baskets
overflowing with wild flowers.
But no-one,
hearing the sweet sound
of those little bells,
with gaping mouths
cast in wax moulds
at the blacksmith’s forge,
ringing out
across the dense forest slopes,
has come to say,
'Here it comes now, his chariot,
ready for a feast!'
with your dangling water pot
and your staff
from the red-flowering murukku,
its fine bark stripped,
Sir Brahmin,
with your ritual fasting!
within those holy teachings
whose meaning no words can express,
is there some formula
which has the power to unite
those who are parted?
If not, all you say is mere delusion.
comes the cockerel’s cry
and in reply
my pure heat pounds
with sudden dread.
For like a bright sword
the dawn has come
to sunder me
from my lover’s embrace.
even the snakes fall victim
to your violent attack
as you sweep across
the wide mountain slopes
borne on the rushing wind
as lightening flashes
and thunder roars
amidst the heavy black clouds!
But is such behaviour worthy
of your gracious nature?
You who have the power
to overturn the Himalaya mountains
of noble fame,
what have you to do
with poor, defenceless womankind?
has grown and filled out
and her rounded breasts,
freckled with beauty spots,
strain against her bodice
so that her tiny little waist
already unable to tolerate the leaf-skirt
bound around her hips
suffers from their weight.
What will become of her,
she whose earrings are wrought in the shapes of flowers?'
thus, with aching heart,
does this ignorant village
worry and fret itself.