The buffaloes
With calves so young
When to milk them they find none
Their udders flow unbound
With mercy on their born so dear
That the earth gets wet with milk far and near
Oh sister of the one
Who owns this fortune known to none,
Atop our heads do snowflakes fall
Yet we come to sing in praise
His glories
At your castle’s door
The one who having robbed of
His wealth of life
Ventures as far as south
To see his end
Ravana, the one that robbed His dearest wife.
He is the one
To fill us with virtuous thoughts.
Even a word of speech
You hold to self
Though know you
How much we are in your need
Yet you rest in this length of sleep
The neighbours, may you know
Are aware
We have reached your door
To awake you from this sleep so deep.
2009 Srirangam Andal Alankaaram
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