Her spotless bowl to beg,
And her shoulder carry bag,
Kownthi Adigal took them up,
To go ahead in this arduous trip.
She prayed, 'Lead us the way,
Oh God, in this trip night and day.
They three started their journey,
To reach Madurai hopefully.
THE COUNTRY'S RICHES
'Despite odd weathers,
By the abundant rainfalls
In the Kudagu Mountains
The Cauvery River floods.'
'As there's plenty of water,
The growths are far better.
You hear sounds everywhere
Of canals and the flowing river.'
'See the sight of fields green,
Paddy, grain, sugarcane,
Lotus, crows, hen, crane
Water birds and swan.'
THE FARMERS' SUPERIOR POSITION
The mud coated buffaloes
They rubbed their itching bodies
On the packed grains stacks
Spilling down the grain seeds.'
The village handicraft smithies,
And their associate blacksmiths,
They made their combined noises,
Coupled with their chatting voices.
The field labors of the lowest class,
Appeared in their muddy faces,
With their intoxicated red eyes,
Sang folk music in drunken voices.
Amidst the weeds and grains,
The farmers sang plough songs,
Which were heard at a distance,
When they passed thru' that place.
After the harvest to remove the grains,
The farmers brought them to the plains.
While they were beating the grass for the grains,
They sang in chorus to bear their strains.
THEY WALKED AND WALKED
They heard all these sounds,
In their marching rounds
By the side of the rivers,
As three tired wayfarers.
From sacrificial fire the smoke,
All around the sky it broke.
They saw several river boats,
Kept near other wooden floats.
They saw the farmers' huts,
Alongside the river beds,
Walking a few miles a day
They took rest on the way.
Village after village, city after city,
They walked towards Madurai City.
Halting from place to place,
And going from place to place.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem