There is abundance all around me. It is the season of harvest. It is the season of giving. It is the season to celebrate.
Sitting by the river and enjoying the clear skies and warm sun, I thought of the harvest the summer had brought. One thought led me to another and I was soon thinking of a translation of a #Tagore poem I read a long time ago.
After some search, I found this version on the internet. I must say the mood of the poem was perfect.
#Gurudev gently reminds us to constantly empty to replenish.
And to do this joyfully will be the job of every writer, poet, or in any profession or relationship. If we held on to one project without completing it for the fear of a new one… or if we hold on to our successes and get stuck in it…we need to load our #gold, our creations and let them sail their way. We need to return to our jobs, our chosen jobs, to start a new. The labor renews. The new crop could be exciting.
Of course, there are several other layers of meaning to a poem when a genius writes it. I picked up what I needed.
Here is the poem:
The Golden boat
Clouds rumbling in the sky; teeming rain.
I sit on the river bank, sad and alone.
The sheaves lie gathered, harvest has ended,
The river is swollen and fierce in its flow.
As we cut the paddy it started to rain.
One small paddy-field, no one but me –
Flood-waters twisting and swirling everywhere.
Trees on the far bank; smear shadows like ink
On a village painted on deep morning grey.
On this side a paddy-field, no one but me.
Who is this, steering close to the shore
Singing? I feel that she is someone I know.
The sails are filled wide, she gazes ahead,
Waves break helplessly against the boat each side.
I watch and feel I have seen her face before.
Oh to what foreign land do you sail?
Come to the bank and moor your boat for a while.
Go where you want to, give where you care to,
But come to the bank a moment, show your smile –
Take away my golden paddy when you sail.
Take it, take as much as you can load.
Is there more? No, none, I have put it aboard.
My intense labour here by the river –
I have parted with it all, layer upon layer;
Now take me as well, be kind, take me aboard.
No room, no room, the boat is too small.
Loaded with my gold paddy, the boat is full.
Across the rain-sky clouds heave to and fro,
On the bare river-bank, I remain alone –
What had has gone: the golden boat took all.
What were your thoughts after reading this poem? I am eager to know. Please share with me.