The Punishment

An old man met the beggar boy on the road one day,
Saw him playing the violin and went up to say
“Wht do you play so slow? Why do you play so sad?
You have such a lovely instrument that composers play like mad!”
The boy stopped playing and looked up at him,
“I play not, sir, just because of a simple whim.
I have no mother, I have no father,
The violin is my friend, and I have no other.”
“I play not for money, I play not for fun,
I play not for the moon or for the sun.
I play for my parents, high up there,
Because they played for me, anytime, anywhere.
They saved me from boredom, and hunger and pain,
They saved me from the sun, moon and rain.
Yet I could not sacrifice a little of my fitness
To save my saviours from their illness.”
“So, say not my song is sad, say not my song is long,
for my parents, it is the most comforting song.”
The boy’s words brought tears to the old man’s eyes
And he thought, “This boy certainly is wise.
He might be happier if I take him home,
Instead of leaving him to the merciless streets to roam.
He may play when I am sad, and accompany me,
He may be pampered and yet make me see,
That all is not lost, so smile, don’t frown.”
At that moment a thunderbolt struck him down,
The boy looked at his ashes and said, “So he was caught,
Having thoughts of saving me, thanks a lot,
Mother and father, for punishing me for my crime,
For I had forsaken you when you had not a dime!”

Aviv Nair
3/5/2004