Gautama Buddha stood near the dead-body of Judas Iscariot. Hot blood was still gushing out from his broken skull. The potter's field remained as a red painting made of blood and his bowels gushed out looked like mating pythons.
‘One-day, this place will be known as ‘the field of blood'; Gautama told himself and sank into deep meditation. When he opened his eyes, Jesus was sitting beside him with tears...
‘Why do you cry? '
‘Sacrifice recognizes sacrifice…'
Gautama smiled and that smile got transferred to Jesus also, for true smile is made of sacrifice!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem