Ages back, me, a Krouncha bird;
Perched upon a branch, courting.
Brought me down, a man's hunger,
The sharpest arrow stole my life.
Janmas passed, and me, a hunter.
Aiming this, and aiming that.
Saw a bird among the greens,
A gasp I heard, upon the shot.
Alas! The Blessed One it was;
Seeing Him die, stood I, in pain.
Silently, the pain I bore,
And by fate, a Mother I became.
The Princess whom a prince renounced,
To seek the eternal Truth.
Hard is the way this cycle goes;
And strange it is that I can't flee,
For, I became a mere tree.
A Bodhi tree to light up a soul
A Bodhi tree cherished by all.
I became a bee, I became a bud;
I became a drop and I became a ray.
I became this and I became that.
Again and again I went around,
And again and again I was bound.
Came out at last, I, lost my Self.
And found myself everywhere.
Free from deeds, and free from all.
Nothing I am, and nothing I am.
And yet so dull this Freedom is,
Better had I been that Krouncha bird!!!
1.Krouncha bird:A type of bird, the death of one of the sort among a courting pair at the hands of a hunter, is believed to have inspired Valmiki to write Ramayana.
2.Janma : A Sanskrit word for 'lives' or 'incarnations of the same soul', according to Hindu mythology.
3. The Blessed One : Krishna
4.Prince : Gautama Budhdha
