Sindbad The Sailor - The Intro. Poem by Shankaran Kutty

Long years ago, hundreds in fact
In the beautiful city of Baghdad
Lived a poor man, porter by job
And the name he had, was Hindbad

And on a day when it was hot and sultry
Whence Hindbad was drenched in sweat
By the shade of a tree near a mansion
The porter then paused, for a rest

From the kitchen of that palace he stood
Of richest foods, wafted the smell
On this display of opulence did he
With jealousy, for a moment dwell

“Pray, tell me sir”, said he
To the keeper of the silver gates
“Who is blessed with such wealth
When my poverty hardly abates? ”

“There is no living soul”, said the keeper
“In this magnificent city of Baghdad
Who hasn’t heard of the exploits
Or travels of Sailor Sindbad “

“On one HE showers such riches
When on me only sadness and calamity
How can you be so cruel, oh Lord
On this subject, won’t you show any pity? ”

Sindbad then called the porter in
“I heard you standing by the window
But before you say God is unjust
My stories and travels, you must know”

“My Lord, I said so unjust
And in undue haste was it done “
Said Hindbad, bowing before the sailor
“I seek your complete pardon “.

“No, no my friend, arise you must
And hear my strange unique story
Of dangers, death, riches and pain
Tales of untold misery”

He pulled the porter next to him
Whose eyes still sported a lost look
And thus began Sindbad, telling his story
Of the seven voyages he took.