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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