Day and night we listen to the heavenly
chariot rumbling by with travellers for that region of bliss; it drives
sleep from our eyes and forces them to watch in fruitless jealousy. Far
below us earth's old forests rustle and her seas chant the primal hymn of
creation: they sound like the wail of a memory that wanders void space in
vain.
RITVIK
Come down, King!
SHADES
Stop a few moments among us. The earth's tears still cling about you, like
dew on freshly culled flowers. You have brought with you the mingled odours
of meadow and forest; reminiscence of children, women, and comrades;
something too of the ineffable music of the seasons.
SOMAKA
Master, why are you doomed to live in this muffled stagnant world?
RITVIK
I offered up your son in the sacrificial fire: _that_ sin has lodged my
soul in this obscurity.
SHADES
King, tell us the story, we implore you; the recital of crime can still
bring life's fire into our torpor.
SOMAKA
I was named Somaka, the King of Videha. After sacrificing at innumerable
shrines weary year on year, a son was born to my house in my old age, love
for whom, like a sudden untimely flood, swept consideration for everything
else from my life.
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