Tragedy of the Divine Comedy

I was begging from door to door in the village path
when your golden chariot appeared in the distance

like a gorgeous dream and I wondered who was this King
of all kings, and I thought my hard days were at an end!

As the chariot stopped where I stood and your glance fell

on me, waiting for alms to be given unasked and for wealth
to be scattered around, and you came down with a smile
further raising my hopes, my feeling of luck!

Suddenly you put your right hand and said, ‘What have you
to give me?’, shocking me with a rare kingly jest, opening
your palm to a beggar, throwing me into confusion, indecision
as I slowly from my wallet gave you the least little grain.

But my surprise was great at the day’s end as I emptied
my begging bag on the floor to find a least little gram of gold
among the poor heap and I bitterly wept and wept
and wished that I had had the heart to give you my all.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 50

Henry Victor          30.12.2012