"Kiss me, out of the bearded barley,
Nightly, beside the green, green grass.
Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight
Lead me, out on the moonlit floor"

I am a sucker for love poetry, even the schmaltzy kind. In
fact, I used to theorize that the only proof that you
mastered a language is if you can write (for that matter,
even appreciate) a love letter in that language. My silly
theory goes like this: Love is not as visceral as other
feelings. At least the kind of love that writes letters is
not. Inevitably, these letters are filled with ephemeral
schmaltz. If you know enough about a language to be
touched by ephemera, hey, more power to you.

When somebody here mentioned that #aame kannulalO
anantaambarapu neeli neeDalu galavu#, it struck a chord in
me. For one thing, why is it that we almost always see these
letters or, letters disguised as poems from men? Do women
not write these letters err... poems? #aataDu naavale
unmatta bhaavaSaali, aapukolEDu rEgunoohala nokinta#, would
that thrill somebody?

Perhaps the predominantly male-centered poetry has certainly
been helped (Am I confusing between cause and effect?) by
the abundant vocabulary that describes all things
feminine. C'mon... men wear a sum and total of two
colors. In one saree alone, you would find enough colors to
dazzle and confuse us men for a lifetime.

I suppose one of the predominant strand of this poetry is
intrinsically tied to earth, village, and perhaps #yeMki
paaTalu#. In these songs, we here the sounds of
#kaDavettukellETi kannepilla#. Even if we do not know what
#koTEru mukku# is, we do know it is good to have
it. Sometimes they are tender #yenaka janamamu lOna yevarimO
nEnanTi ... siggocci naavindi chilaka naayenki#, sometime
they are lusty #vaaDu kanapaDitE caalu gunDe jhallu#.
They may even be set in #mokkajonna tOTa#. In all
these songs we can easily see the women and men as rugged
and hearty. They are not the types "that weep but know not
why".

These weeping kind is the one that Kri.Sa. popularized. I
can almost imagine the women he is talking about to be
consumptive(fashionably, of course), with thin hands, in
white gloves, with strands of big pearls, perhaps an
occasional flash of sadness streaking across the
face. [Change this suitably to set it in AP]. The power is
not physical; you never even here of description of breasts
which are so popular with all the other poets. These poems
describe the eyes, or perhaps hair. The more elusive the
physical attribute, the better it is for this style.

Of course, as far as the women are concerned, the ancient
poets were definitely concerned. Even when the woman is
crying or dying, still, their breasts or face does not
escape the description. I suppose, some of our modern poets
still dream about #pRthu vakshOja nitamba bhaaralu#.

These ancient poets were not all bad though. Who amongst us
do not love Bhavabhooti and his immortal poem #iyam gEhE
lakshmee... kimasyaa napriyaM, yadi paramasahyastu virah@h#?

Whenever I read these ancient romantic poetry, I think of
corn beef. I meant, it is the tradition, rooted in some
evolutionary approach. Apparently, salt was a preservative,
which meant corn beef was a necessity when there was no
refrigidation. It still survives, see?

The corn beef gets even cornier in the poetry influenced by
Urdu and Persian poetry. #uvida ghOshTilO nEnu unDakunTa
mElu, nannu goorci prastaavanamme caalu#. They don't even
talk to women, they merely talk about them, sometimes even
without seeing them.

Our greatest treasury of love poems though is our
movies. They are profound #manasuna manasai, bratukuna
bratuaki#, tender #naa paaTa neenOTa palakaala cilakaa#,
rowdy #kurra naa eeDu gurramai tanne, guTTugaa
gunDeladaragaa#, and perhaps even raunchy.

In the end, what we like depends on the mood, as the poet
says:

"Sometimes these cogitations still amaze
The troubled midnight, and the noon's repose."

--
Ramarao Kanneganti
http://www.kanneganti.com/social

PS: Obviously, all the poems and songs are quoted from
memory, so they can be wrong.