If I Was A Tree

If I was a tree 

The bird wouldn't ask me

Before it built its nest 

What caste I am.

When sunlight embraced me 

My shadow wouldn't feel defiled

My friendship with the cool breeze and the leaves would be sweet.

Raindrops wouldn't turn back

Taking me for a dog-eater.

When I branch out further from my roots

Mother Earth wouldn't flee shouting for a bath.

The sacred cow would scrape her body on my bark,

Scratching wherever it itched

And the three hundred thousand gods sheltering inside her would touch me.

Who knows,

In the end,

Hacked into pieces of dry wood,

Burning in the holy fire,

I might be made pure,

Or becoming the bier for a sinless body

Be borne on the shoulders of four good men.