Jaysen, the chief of the King’s army, said, “I would gladly give my life’s blood, but there is not enough food in my house.”
Dharmapāl, who owned broad acres of land, said with a sigh, “The drought demon has sucked my fields dry. I know not how to pay King’s dues.”
Then rose Supriyā, the mendicant’s daughter.
She bowed to all and meekly said, “I will feed the hungry.”
“How!” they cried in surprise. “How can you hope to fulfil that vow?”
“I am the poorest of you all,” said Supriyā, “that is my strength. I have my coffer and my store at each of your houses.”
XXXII
My king was unknown to me, therefore when he claimed his tribute I was bold to think I would hide myself leaving my debts unpaid.
I fled and fled behind my day’s work and my night’s dreams.
But his claims followed me at every breath I drew.