Pathipaka Mohan
If he moves his hands 
Entire sky 
Turns into a beautiful cloth 
As a colorful butterfly 
Perches in the lap 
If he sits in the ditch of loom and weaves with the sound tak tak 
United length and breadth 
Become the five colored parrots 
Glisten brightly 
Moving as a roll of thread 
Smearing as dye 
Like the ruby of silk wires when he 
Goes on weaving 
Colored rainbow became a spinning wheel in the home 
As a thread of cloud dye it winds  
If he adjusts 
Prints designs and weaves 
The sky will be the beautiful sari 
Huddles as a young bird 
In a match box nest
Lighted clouds 
Entwine as flower vines 
Standing as a graceful cloth 
Fly like a multicolored butterfly …..
When it moves as a seven coloured rainbow 
The weaver instead of getting a fistful of food 
Will be encountered by hunger
Without any knowledge of 
The cloth weaved by him holding his breath 
Turns into his shroud 
He is deceived every minute