(I have the old Indiana University Press edition from 1975 with a 1967 copyright)
Perhaps I read this wonderful book in some inappropriate way -- because I insist on reading these little poems as heartfelt love poems from individual voices. Ramanujan is careful to tell us in his Afterword that these poets were part of a South Indian community in the third century, and they all wrote through a limited number of personae, and one of the purposes and joys of the work was to overcome personality and to fit into that community. Of course, that's fascinating, but when I turn to the poems, I keep reading them as contemporary, often associating in wild ways, and speaking of emotions that we all felt yesterday. Here's one picked almost at random:
What She Said
The rains, already old,
have brought new leaf upon the fields.
The grass spears are trimmed and blunted
by the deer.
The jasmine creeper is showing its buds
through their delicate calyx
like the laugh of a wildcat.
In jasmine country, it is evening
for the hovering bees,
but look, he hasn't come back.
He left me and went in search
of wealth.
I knew the translator well enough that I'm pretty sure Ramanujan would be fine with my readings of these poems, even though he would be amused. And, by the way, he is one of the great translators of our time. Readers might not know that because he was devoted to translating South Indian languages.