Ten days in August’s sweltering heat
Ponderously I stately swing
White linen laid before my feet
Where dancers whirl to rhythmic beat
Of drum, I walk the tooth to bring
Forth to the crowds on cushioned seat
The monks and devotees I meet.
Petals of scented flowers they fling
The relic of the shrine to greet
The air is filled with incense sweet
Pearls to my gold umbrella cling
Thousands applaud me in the street
The scarlet banners furl and pleat
Orchids, like birds go fluttering
And every bowl with alms replete
I am the chosen. A short leet
Reduced to one. My neck bells ring
With pride at conch shells’ welcome bleat
Night of the full moon! Torches leap
Saddu they cry. Small fireflies wing
My glory over, task complete
The curtains part, the Heavens weep
The short walk of a brief godling
Back to my stall. The dark is deep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem