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.

Rain drops 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,
at 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 born in the shoulders of four good men.