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A Cow and a Goat

A verdant pasture lay somewhere serene, Its very ground, the soul of springtime's scene.

How could one tell the beauty of that place? Clear streams were flowing forth with gentle grace.

Of pomegranate trees, a countless stand, And shady Peepals spread across the land.

The cooling breezes softly drifted by, And songs of birds came echoing from the sky.

Beside a stream, a goat, while grazing near, Had wandered from her path and did appear.

She paused and looked around on every hand, And saw a cow nearby upon the land.

First bowing low, a greeting it conveyed, Then with propriety, these words it said:

"Good Madam, tell me, how does your health fare?" The cow replied, "I'm well," with weary air.

"My life just passes, be it good or bad, A life of constant misery I've had.

My very life is now at stake, you see, What can I say? It's wretched destiny.

I see the strange and wondrous ways of God, And weep for all the wretched on this sod.

The poor and weak can never find their way, What fate has written, we must all obey.

Let no one ever show a kindness to Man, May God forbid you fall into his plan!

If I give little milk, he grumbles low, And if I'm thin, then off to sell I go.

With clever stratagems he makes his slave, With what sly wiles he makes the meek behave.

It is his children that I must sustain, And with my milk, I give them life again.

For all my goodness, this is my reward, To You I make my plea, Almighty Lord!"

The goat, on hearing this entire affair, Replied, "Such grievances are most unfair.

A bitter truth may cause the tongue to sting, But God's own truth is what I have to bring.

This pasture green, this cool and gentle breeze, This verdant grass, the shade of all these trees—

Such joys as these, how could we ever find? Where would we be, the poor and silent kind?

These pleasures all exist because of Man, All of these comforts are part of his plan.

Our settled lives are thanks to his decree; Is bondage better, then, or being free?

A hundred dangers in the forest wait, May God protect us from that wretched fate.

His kindness is a blessing we receive, It does not suit us that we should so grieve.

If you but knew the value of this ease, You would not blame the Man who brings you peace."

The cow, on hearing this, was filled with shame, And rued the moment she had put the blame

On Man; she weighed the good and bad within her thought, And after thinking, said what she'd been taught:

"Though humble is the station of the goat, Her words of wisdom truly strike a note."