Song Meaning
The lyrics present a profound, almost paradoxical piece of advice from a Brahmin, seemingly in response to a question about prayer. The core of this advice is a nightly recitation: 'I have been a king, I have been a slave... Fool, rascal, knave, That I have not been.' This isn't a confession of past sins, but an assertion of having experienced the full spectrum of human existence, culminating in the striking image, 'And yet upon my breast A myriad heads have lain.' This suggests a life lived so fully, or perhaps so promiscuously, that it encompasses all roles and experiences, leading to a state of profound, perhaps weary, acceptance.
The narrator then interjects with commentary, interpreting this advice as a way to 'Set at rest A boy's turbulent days,' linking it to the idea of fulfilling past desires. The subsequent lines introduce a cyclical, almost violent imagery of 'Grave is heaped on grave' and 'Birth is heaped on Birth,' suggesting that the relentless march of time and generations is a form of satisfaction, a 'cannonade' that 'thunder[s] time away.' This grand, cosmic perspective implies that individual lives, with all their roles and experiences, are merely part of an ongoing, perhaps chaotic, process of renewal and oblivion.
The most striking craft element is the juxtaposition of the intimate, personal confession of having 'been a king' and 'a slave' with the vast, impersonal scale of 'myriad heads' and the generational cycle of birth and death. The Brahmin's statement, delivered as a supposed prayer or mantra, functions not to seek divine intervention but to internalize a complete, all-encompassing self-awareness. The narrator's commentary then expands this into a vision of history and existence as a continuous, overwhelming force, where 'Birth-hour and death-hour meet.'
This piece hits hard because it reframes personal experience not as a linear progression but as a totality to be embraced. The advice, 'pray for nothing,' coupled with the exhaustive list of past identities, suggests that true peace comes from recognizing the vastness of one's own lived or potential experiences, rather than seeking external absolution. The final lines, 'Men dance on deathless feet,' offer a glimpse of transcendence, not through prayer, but through this radical acceptance of life's ceaseless, overwhelming rhythm.
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