Dewed with drops of toil and languor, lo,! a chariot-driver came,
Loosely hung his scanty garments, and a staff upheld his frame,
Karna, now a crownéd monarch, to the humble Suta sped,
As a son unto a father, reverently bent his head!
With his scanty cloth the driver sought his dusty feet to hide,
And he hailed him as a father hails his offspring in his pride,
And he clasped unto his bosom crownéd Karna's noble head,
And on Karna's dripping forehead, fresh and loving tear-drops shed!
Is he soil of chariot-driver? Doubts arose in Bhima's mind,
And he sought to humble Karna with reproachful words unkind
'Wilt thou, high-descended hero, with a Kuru cross thy brand?
But the goad of cattle-drivers better suits, my friend, thy hand!
Wilt thou as a crownéd monarch rule a mighty nation's weal?
As the jackals of the jungle sacrificial offerings steal!'
Quivered Karna's lips in anger, word of answer spake he none,
But a deep sigh shook his bosom, and he gazed upon the sun!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
Veda vyasa you wrote this poem superbly