Four Signs

His hair was grey
His body gaunt
He limped in pain
He could not walk
His skin like leather
His wrinkled brow
He hunched himself in a permanent bow

Channa, oh Channa
What do I see?
What has afflicted this man before me?
Channa, oh Channa
Must it be?
Will this condition befall me?

Upon the ground
A man I see
His eyes deranged
Lie fixed upon me
The cry of pain
Upon my ear
The pang of suffering, I'm condemned to hear

Channa, oh Channa
What do I see?
What has afflicted this man before me?
Channa, now Channa
Must it be?
Will this condition befall me?

A body lies still
'neath the noonday sun
Immersed in slumber
No breath is drawn
The flies, they buzz
And vultures creep
From this rank body they draw their meat

Channa, oh Channa
What do I see?
What has afflicted this man before me?
Channa, now Channa
Must it be?
Will this condition befall me?

Now hear before me
Appears a man
A beggar's bowl
Rests in his hand
His robe is tattered
His patience deep
His eyes look tranquil
How they enchant me

Channa, oh Channa
What do I see?
Who is this man
Who sits before me?
Channa, now Channa
How can it be?
That a man with nothing can be most free?



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