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 THE CURSE AT FAREWELL

In most unheavenly wise; and, as a stag

Sore-wounded, so my suffering heart may turn

To some far forest-glade for which I yearn.

My burnt-out life in all its work may know

A never-dying thirst—yet must I go

Back to my joyless home of heaven, to give

The Gods this lore by which the dead relive.

My life in this their new divinity

‘Will get fulfilment absolute—for me,

I put all joy aside before my task.

Debjaini, I have wronged you. But I ask

Forgiveness.

DENJANI

In what corner of my mind, Brahmin, forgiveness will you ever find?

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