From The Natrinai Four Hundred
International Institute of Tamil Studies, Chennai, 2001.
(The companion of the heroine allows entry to the hero.)
Oh chief of a fertile plain
In your domain, the tillers take
Baskets full of seeds, to sow
In the vast fields ploughed again
After a harvest, for raising a second crop;
Their sowing done,
They return home, with the same baskets
Filled with many a kind of fishes.
You must know, chief,
That to be honored by the crown with titles
And travelling in speeding vehicles
Are never the marks of prosperity.
What the wise deem as genuine wealth
Is compassion – the melting of heart
That makes one to rush
To wipe the tears of the dependents
Who seek one’s support.
Poet – Milaikilan Nalvetanar