The Prodigal Son and the Seeking Father.
Project Gutenberg EPUB edition
Soothill, William Edward and Kumārajīva
‘The time of my death is approaching;
My foolish son has left me
For over fifty years;
The things in my storehouses—
What shall I do with them?’
At that time the poor son
Was seeking food and clothing
From city on to city.
From country on to country,
Sometimes getting something,
Sometimes finding nothing;
Famished, weak and gaunt,
Covered with scab and itch,
Gradually he passes along
To the city where dwells his father.
Hired for wages he roams,
At last reaching his father’s house.
At that very hour the elder,
Within his gate, has set up
A great costly canopy,
And sits on a lion-seat,
Surrounded by his attendants,
Every one caring for him,
Some are counting up
Gold, silver, and precious things;
Incoming and outgoing goods,
Noting and recording bonds.
The poor son, seeing his father
So noble, honoured and splendid,
Thinks: ‘This must be a king
Or one of royal rank.’
Alarmed and wondering, he says:
‘Why have I come here?’
Again he thinks to himself,
‘If I tarry here long,
I may suffer oppression
And be driven to forced labour.’
Having pondered thus,
He hurries away in haste
To seek some poorer place,