In ailment and distress,
As if thunder comes down,
Fed up with strain and stress,
Afflictions do mount upon.
"How long will I cry?
The fig tree may not bud
You will not hear my sigh,"
No grapes on the vines instead.
No sheep and no cattle,
I believe,God will make my feet
Yet I will never battle,
As that of deers on height.
Oh! God I will cry and cry,
Until You hear my sigh.
Yesupatham Savarimuthu.
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