There was this man once upon a time and he was very confused.
He searched through the libraries of the world and the scrolls of the scribes but he got no answer. And he studied with the wise professors of learning in the best institutions of knowledge and got no answer. And he starved himself for forty days and nights and even took little pinches of mescaline to open the doors of perception but still he did not get the answer he desired.
So he decided to go on his way and walk from the top of the world to the bottom of the world in order to see could he meet anyone who might answer his question.
And on his way he met an important rich man with money-bags under his eyes and with golden threads through his hair. And he asked of him gently and with proper manners, “Kind sir”, he said, “you are a man of the world. You go here, there, and everywhere. You breakfast in London and dine in Montevideo. You have enough money to break the bank at Monte Carlo or to play footsie with the stock exchange. Would you mind telling me, please, what this is all about, what is the meaning of life?”
And he looked into the eyes of the rich man and he saw the money dancing in them.
And the rich man said to him as he might say to his underlings: “Sorry boy. Go away. I am too busy. I have to buy another bank. And anyway, it’s a stupid question.”
And when he left the place he heard the rich man laugh, and his laugh shook the ground beneath his feet.
And after that he went to the palace of the King. The King was within perusing a map under eyebrows that looked like moving forests. His fingernails curled like dragons on his abacus as he counted his soldiers. And as he perused with pleasure his forehead took on the contours of an unconquered country and his teeth glistened like burnished shields.
And the man asked him with suitable obsequiousness but in all honesty, “Your most worthy and inestimable excellency,” he said, “you are the ruler of many kingdoms. You say to men come and they come, and go to war and they go to war. There is nobody but that does not bow down before your might and majesty and do your bidding. Please, please tell me, what this is all about, what is the meaning of life?”
And he looked into the depths of the eyes of the king and he saw power dancing within.
And the King said to him with suitable royal impatience: “Begone from here, you fool, before I chop off your head. Don’t you see that I am too busy erecting monuments and defeating knavish enemies? And anyway, it is a stupid question.”
And when he left that place he could hear the King and his courtiers laughing and their laughs echoed like trampling hooves on the flagstones of the road.
And after that he went to the Temple. The Chief Priest was within praying on his bended knees. And the man spoke to him and said: “Your most benign grace and utmost holiness,” he said, “you have read all the books of theology and the scrolls of scripture. You know the lives of the saints and the prognostications of the prophets. You offer sacrifices and make obeisances daily. You fast and abstain. You keep the ten commandments and possess the seven gifts of the holy ghost and practise the cardinal virtues. Can you please, please, tell me what this is all about, what is the meaning of life?”
And he peered down deeply into the eyes of the Chief Priest and he saw sanctity and holiness dancing madly in them.
And the Chief Priest said to him with authority: “Depart from me before I set the faithful upon you. Dost thou not see that I am too busy adoring God? I have to make reparations for the sins of the world. And anyway, it is a stupid question.”
And when he left that place with a troubled heart he heard the Chief Priest laughing, and his laugh drew echoes down from the speedwell blue of the sky.
And outside of the Temple he saw a small boy begging.
“Help me,” said the boy, “I have had nothing to drink for three days and I am dying of thirst.”
And when the man saw the wretchedness of the boy he cried bitterly. And he filled a cup with his tears and he gave it to the boy and the boy drank it and was grateful.
And now I ask you, which of these people did most good, the men who laughed, or the man who cried?
Translated by the author
From Four Front by Micheál Ó Conghaile, Pádraic Breathnach, Dara Ó Conaola and Alan Titley
Published by Cló Iar-Chonnachta