Mohini Chatterjee

 I asked if I should pray.

But the Brahmin said,
'pray for nothing, say
Every night in bed,
'I have been a king,
I have been a slave,
Nor is there anything.

Fool, rascal, knave,
That I have not been,
And yet upon my breast
A myriad heads have lain.
'

That he might Set at rest
A boy's turbulent days
Mohini Chatterjee
Spoke these, or words like these,
I add in commentary,
'Old lovers yet may have
All that time denied -
Grave is heaped on grave
That they be satisfied -
Over the blackened earth
The old troops parade,
Birth is heaped on Birth
That such cannonade
May thunder time away,
Birth-hour and death-hour meet,
Or, as great sages say,
Men dance on deathless feet.
'

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