Your home transcends geographical boundaries, you belong to the humanity beyond kinship.
The good and evil; nobody can will that unto you, (but)to suffer or to rejoice; is to your will.
Death and Life; they just exist. To celebrate them is upto you. To renounce them, is also upto you.
The primeval waterfall (or rain) crashing down on earth, with ancient might, it charges on the rocks. The plains, however, calms down the raging water; Like my soul, that is cradled into peace by the absolute truth of existence.
The sages (or scholars) as they embrace this design realizes; “It is despicable to submit to the wealthy, to the authority. It is disgustful, to insult the poor, the submissive”.
– Kaniyan Poongunranar.
I tried to translate as best I could. I can’t bring the rhythm and metre over to English but the substance, it is how I remember the poem. This was written 2500 years ago.. as a part of a larger body of collection regarded as https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sangam_literature.
I hope I get better for my reasons to translate this right now is merely political. To let the world know of what was happening in some sage’s mind 2500 years ago.
P.S: I translated this poem as I sat over the banks of Hudson River in Troy, thinking about what is missing from what I sought 10 years ago.
The original poem is here.. http://www.tamilvu.org/slet/l1281/l1281per.jsp?sno=192&file=l1281a23.