The shadow of a mighty tree has fallen,
Our Vaigai River has run dry,
The garden lizards in our red-soil groves have perished,
And the Western Ghats have caught fire.
Oh, Bharathiraja—born Palpandi…
Oh, towering titan of cinema…
A creator like you will never again be born on this soil.
The simple love with which you embraced everyone,
And the encouragement you gave by kindly patting artists on the back—these will never fade.
Though you have merged with the earth whose stories you told,
The warmth of the humanity you left behind will never dry up!
Chinnappa Das running atop the mountain peak,
The sound of the waves that never cease,
Muthal Mariyathai… the heavy stone that the young man could not lift,
Your smile—radiant as a sunflower,
The breeze of Kizhakku Cheemai…
Those dark, weathered hands clasped in greeting to the people as the film began,
That voice calling out, “My dear Tamil people”…
All of these are timeless and imperishable!
Farewell, Master…
I bow in reverence.
I offer my deepest condolences…