"I muse of YOUTH!
The tender sadness still returns!

In sport I moulded shapes of river sand,
plucked flowers to wreathe around the mimic forms:
in the cool tank I bathed, hand linked in hand,
with little maidens, dancing as they danced!
A band of innocents, we knew no guile.

I plunged beneath th' o'erspreading myrtle's shade,
where trees that wafted fragrance lined the shore;
then I climbed the branch that overhung the stream
while those upon the bank stood wondering;
I threw the waters round, and headlong plunged
dived deep beneath the stream, and rose,
my hands filled with the sand that lay beneath!
Such was my youth unlesson'd. 'Tis too sad!
Those days of youth, ah! whither have they fled?

I now with trembling hands, grasping my staff,
panting for breath, gasp few and feeble words.
And I am worn and OLD!"


Ancient Sangam Litt., Purananuru, 243
300 BC - 200 AD

Translated by G. U. Pope, 1906

To us all towns are one, all men our kin,
Life's good comes not from others' gifts, nor ill,
Man's pains and pain's relief are from within,
Death's no new thing, nor do our bosoms thrill
When joyous life seems like a luscious draught.
When grieved, we patient suffer; for, we deem
This much-praised life of ours a fragile raft
Borne down the waters of some mountain stream
That o'er huge boulders roaring seeks the plain
Tho' storms with lightning's flash from darkened skies.

Descend, the raft goes on as fates ordain.
Thus have we seen in visions of the wise !

We marvel not at the greatness of the great;
Still less despise we men of low estate.

Purananuru, 192
(Translated by G.U.Pope, 1906)

The poet Kizhaar address the Chola king Killi to save the lives of the children of a defeated enemy who are about to be executed by being trampled under an elephant.

The poet says, "… O king, you belong to the heritage of kings who sliced their own flesh to save the life of a pigeon, look at these children; they are so naïve of their plight that they have stopped crying to look at the swinging trunk of the elephant in amusement. Have pity on them…"

I am the soul

Not food is the soul of life
Nor water is the life's soul
It is the king
who is the life of this wide expanse of the earth

(Call it popular belief, or flattery
the king's character and conduct was believed to translate as powers over the climate and environment (rains, sunshine, successful crops)
-- Royal Karma at work)


Therefore
this is the duty of the kings
with armies stocked with mighty spears:

To know:
I am the soul!