The Further Bank – Rabindranath Tagore

I long to go over there to the further bank of the river. 

Where those boats are tied to the bamboo poles in a line; 

Where men cross over in their boats in the morning with 

ploughs on their shoulders to till their far-away fields; 

Where the cowherds make their lowing cattle swim across to the 

riverside pasture; 

Whence they all come back home in the evening, leaving the 

jackals to howl in the island overgrown with weeds. 

Mother, if you don’t mind, I should like to become the boatman 

of the ferry when I am grown up. 

They say there are strange pools hidden behind that high bank. 

Where flocks of wild ducks come when the rains are over, and 

thick reeds grow round the margins where water-birds lay their 

eggs; 

Where snipes with their dancing tails stamp their tiny 

footprints upon the clean soft mud; 

Where in the evening the tall grasses crested with while

flowers invite the moonbeam to float upon their waves. 

Mother, if you don’t mind, I should like to become the boatman 

of the ferryboat when I am grown up. 

I shall cross and cross back from bank to bank, and all the 

boys and girls of the village will wonder at me while they are 

bathing. 

When the sun climbs the mid sky and morning wears on to noon, 

I shall come running to you, saying, “Mother, I am hungry.” 

When the day is done and the shadows cower under the trees, 

I shall come back in the dust. 

I shall never go away from you into the town to work like 

father. 

Mother, if you don’t mind, I should like to become the boatman 

of the ferryboat when I am grown up.

Stray Birds 11- 20 – Rabindranath Tagore

11 

SOME unseen fingers, like idle breeze, 

are playing upon my heart the music of the ripples. 
12 
‘WHAT language is thine, O sea?’ 

‘The language of eternal question.’ 

‘What language is thy answer, O sky? 

‘The language of eternal silence.’ 
13 
LISTEN, 

my heart, 

to the whispers of the world 

with which it makes love to you. 
14 
THE mystery of creation 

is like the darkness of night– 

it is great. 
Delusions of knowledge are like 

the fog of the morning. 
15 
DO not seat your love upon a precipice because it is high. 

16 
I SIT at my window this morning 

where the world like a passer-by stops for a moment, 

nods to me and goes. 
17 
THESE little thoughts are the rustle of leaves; 

they have their whisper of 

joy in my mind. 
18 
WHAT you are you do not see, 

what you see is your shadow. 

19 
MY wishes are fools, they shout across thy songs, my Master. 

Let me but listen. 
20 
I CANNOT choose the best. 

The best chooses me.

Stray Birds 1 – 10 – Rabindranath Tagore


STRAY birds of summer come to my window 

to sing and fly away. 

And yellow leaves of autumn, 

which have no songs, 

flutter and fall there with a sigh. 

O TROUPE of little vagrants of the world, 

leave your footprints in my words. 

THE world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover. 

It becomes small as one song, 

as one kiss of the eternal. 

IT is the tears of the earth 

that keep her smiles in bloom. 

THE mighty desert is burning 

for the love of a blade of grass 

who shakes her head and laughs 

and flies 

away. 

IF you shed tears when you miss the sun, 

you also miss the stars. 

THE sands in your way beg for your song 

and your movement, 

dancing water. 

Will you carry the burden of their lameness? 

HER wistful face haunts my dreams 

like the rain at night. 

ONCE we dreamt that we were strangers. 

We wake up to find that we were dear to each other. 
10 
SORROW is hushed into peace in my heart 

like the evening among the silent trees.

The Mother – Happy Hannah

When life is harder than she thinks, 
she becomes stronger than she used to be. 
She struggles to survive all her life, 
dealing with obstacles as best she could. 

Not only for one life she owns 
but also for her own child’s. 
Everyone has own life to live as in own way. 
But the mother has own life to live 
as in her child way. 

Seven times she falls down 
Eight times she gets up. 
It is because she thinks of her child 
as her driving force even when 
the situation is tough to held her head up. 

As remain as the gravity law 
The mother’s love will stay last.