With his bow
drawn and heroism overwhelming
Came Devadatta
and spoke
To the
Man of affection carrying the
swan
In words full of harshness and
pride.
“Prince! This royal bird is mine
A prize fit for my hands of victory
Let me enjoy the meat of this swan
Grownup on golden corn of manasarovar/”
Spoke Man of compassion with smile on his face
And tender touch on the sides of the Swan
To his friend acting fury unfair at the ends of eyes
And stretching
his hand towards the Royal swan.
“ Having born somewhere, Inhaling the god-given air
Eating something and drinking
some lake water
Flies the royal swan on the vistas of the skies
Is
it fair to show cruelty to her? Can it
bear the arrows of fire?
You twist in pain when others pinch you
Or when
a thorn tears your foot
Aren’t other creatures like you!
Doesn’t the same life course in them?
Isn’t suffering result of violence? Is it
apt to fret and fume?
It’s perfect for the clan of princes to offer protection
Is
it fair to rob the freedom of creatures
plenty!
Doesn’t this earth girded
by oceans four perish in violence?
Is it right to
defile the word Kshatra ?
Let the end of arrow pierce
The end of your palm
Alas! How can this orphan and
Dumb bird describe her pain?
Has your heart turned against swans
To do violence awful
Is it appropriate to kill the gentle
For the famous of the
Sakya clan?
Trampling humanity underneath
Adorned
asuratva onto your head
Have you bidden farewell to goodness
And
ushered in evil ?”
On seeing the treasure of compassion
Radiating lights of affection from his eyes
Spoke Devadatta spilling
Harshness out of his eyes.
“I fell
the bird with an arrow sharp
Flying high in the sky with its group
Why do you seize my bird
Return it to me, Prince of Sakya clan? “
Listening
to the eyeballs of him
The
shaken swan closed its feet!
Ending the worry of the bird
Spoke the man of kindness
“ How did you send the arrow
In the side of bird milky white
Like Rahu who sent his
poisonous fang
Into the gentle heart of the moon?
With
the arrow from the bow drawn
You
shot down the bird in the sky
You can’t
draw the bow to kill
Pride and envy hovering in your heart!
“It’s mine thrice” says Devadatta
Contradicted thrice by Gautama
Their dispute went on and on
Nothing could be decided upon.
Both Devadatta and Gautama gone
To the court of the King
They found the judge
Sought verdict in the row over swan.
