IN THIS GREAT Universe The giant wheel of pain revolves; Stars and planets split up; Sparks of fiery dust, far-flung, Scatter at terrific speed Enveloping in network primordial The anguish of existence. In the armoury of pain Spreading on the stretches of consciousness, aglow, Clang the instruments of torture; Bleeding wounds gape open. Small is man's body, How immense his strength of suffering. At the concourse of creation and chaos To what end does he hold up his cup of fiery drink In the weird festival of the gods Drunk in their titan power,O why Filling his body of clay Sweeps the red delirious tide of tears? To each moment he brings endless value From his unconquerable will. Man's sacrificial offering His burning physical agony Can anything compare, In the whole fiery dedication of the suns and stars? Such unyielding wealth of prowess, Such fearless endurance, Such indifference to death, Triumphal march as this, in hundreds, Trampling embers underfoot To reach the limit of sorrow Is there anywhere such quest, nameless, radiant, Such pilgrimage together, from road to road? Such pure waters of service, breaking through igneous rocks, Such endless store of love?
THE WAR drums are sounded. Men force their features into frightfulness and gnash their teeth; and before they rush out to gather raw human flesh for death's larder, they march to the temple of Buddha, the compassionate, to claim his blessings, while loud beats the drum rat-a-tat and earth trembles. They pray for success; for they must raise weeping and wailing in their wake, sever des of love, plant flags on the ashes of desolated homes, devastate the centres of culture and shrines of beauty, mark red with blood their trail across green meadows and populous markets, and so they march to the temple of Buddha, the compassionate, to claim his blessings, while loud beats the drum rat-a-tat and earth trembles. They will punctuate each thousand of the maimed and killed with the trumpeting of their triumph, arouse demon's mirth at the sight of the limbs torn bleeding from women and children; and they pray that they may befog minds with untruths and poison God's sweet air of breath, and therefore they march to the temple of Buddha, the compassionate, to claim his blessings, while loud beats the drum rat-a-tat and earth trembles.
