Vanquisher I shall be,
The one who conquers all;
Unconquered I shall remain,
And earth will be my kingdom wall.
A dream, so, I carried,
Slowly turned into greed,
Annihilating every territory
Was the doctrine that I breed.
Victory after victory led me to the kalinga war,
Where I beheaded hundreds of thousands innocent-
With my cunning wit;
And then there was a remorse-
A remorse that gnawed my every bit.
When I stroll through the battle field,
Tear-stained eyes and blood-stained clothes-
Is all that I see;
Defeated weapons lay in detached arms,
And corpses lay in victorious agony;
Innocent lives stretch their hands,
In quest of a messiah;
But a hand offered is all in vain,
For soon they will leave,
And soon will their pain.
Some sob for their ultimate loss,
Some scream due to abyssal pain,
Again and again, my conscience asks-
Is that all what you want to gain?
Burn shall my spirit,
Till I find their trust in me,
The faith that they have lost ,
In the battle of kalinga that I won;
Victory is the greatest defeat,
When I pinned the blood of all.
Although, no art can restore vision to a blind,
I shall develop art,
For one day when thy successor shall study it,
My remorse shall let me part.
Folks may not sing for my philanthropy-
A hymn in praise;
Or for stupas, viharas and vishwavidyalayas –
All that I shall raise.
But I shall be contented, when I sleep,
For the benevolence that I did in my days.
Colour of red,
Will slowly fade,
And slowly will the war;
Thy successors will remember Ashoka,
For the peace that cured war.
- Ashoka-The Great King (idyllic.wordpress.com)