Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Kedarnath Singh

A FOLKTALE

When the king died
his body was laid
in large coffin of gold.

A handsome body
no one who saw it
doubted that it was
the body of a king.

First the minister came
and stood with his head bowed
before the body
then the priest came
and mumbled something
under his breath for a long time
then the elephant came
and raised its trunk
in honour of the body
then the black and white horses came
but confused
by the grimness of the scene
they couldn’t decide
whether they should neigh.

Slowly – very slowly
came
the carpenter
the washer-man
the barber
the potter . . .
they stood around the magnificent coffin.

A strange sadness surrounded
the coffin.

Everyone was sad
the minister was sad
because the elephant was sad
the elephant was sad
because the horses were sad
the horses were sad
because the grass was sad
the grass was sad
because the carpenter was sad . . .

A FOLKTALE

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A FOLKTALE

When the king died
his body was laid
in large coffin of gold.

A handsome body
no one who saw it
doubted that it was
the body of a king.

First the minister came
and stood with his head bowed
before the body
then the priest came
and mumbled something
under his breath for a long time
then the elephant came
and raised its trunk
in honour of the body
then the black and white horses came
but confused
by the grimness of the scene
they couldn’t decide
whether they should neigh.

Slowly – very slowly
came
the carpenter
the washer-man
the barber
the potter . . .
they stood around the magnificent coffin.

A strange sadness surrounded
the coffin.

Everyone was sad
the minister was sad
because the elephant was sad
the elephant was sad
because the horses were sad
the horses were sad
because the grass was sad
the grass was sad
because the carpenter was sad . . .

A FOLKTALE

When the king died
his body was laid
in large coffin of gold.

A handsome body
no one who saw it
doubted that it was
the body of a king.

First the minister came
and stood with his head bowed
before the body
then the priest came
and mumbled something
under his breath for a long time
then the elephant came
and raised its trunk
in honour of the body
then the black and white horses came
but confused
by the grimness of the scene
they couldn’t decide
whether they should neigh.

Slowly – very slowly
came
the carpenter
the washer-man
the barber
the potter . . .
they stood around the magnificent coffin.

A strange sadness surrounded
the coffin.

Everyone was sad
the minister was sad
because the elephant was sad
the elephant was sad
because the horses were sad
the horses were sad
because the grass was sad
the grass was sad
because the carpenter was sad . . .
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
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