Tuesday, December 26, 2017

Mother's son *

Those angels who live in the clouds
They how call me, how me they call;
They say ' Gee! How we play
From morn to afternoon to eve,
( with the passage of the day)
In the morn with golden rays
At night with silvery flakes
Of the moon
( how with her songs we swoon)

And I them ask,' how can i in your joys bask?'
They say, ' Come with us to the end of the field
There we'll with mirth do seal
You would've just to stand there quiet
And stretching your hands up stand upright
We'll take you to the land of clouds';

I tell them , ' Mother is there at home
Looking forward to meet me
How can i leave her
Only to see
Your fantasy?'

Hearing this, O mother,
How they go afloat
Only giggling;

Instead mother, I will be the clouds
And you wilt the moon be,
By my arms will you I embrace
We will make the sky on the terrace;

All those angels who live in waves
How me they call, how they call me
Saying, ( after rising from the blue blue sea)
' We only sing from the very beginning
Of the day,
We sing for all who want to be jocund and gay';

They say , ' To which country do we go
No one that does really know' ;

And I to them tell , ' How can i go?'
They ask me, ' why can't you come to the ghat's end
There standing quiet , closing your eyes
You should us call,
And we'll take you sure
To the land of waves pure' ;

I to them tell, ' Mother mine always me calls
When the day ends and the evening does fall,
How can i her so , for you leave?'

Hearing this, O mother
How they go afloat
Only giggling;

Instead mother, will I the wave be
And you a farway country,
I will go to sleep
On thy lap,
And no one will find us
With You in glory
Will I bask.

(* note : it is a transliteration of a poem of Rabindranath Tagore, titled ' মাতৃবৎসল' / ' Matribotsol' , as can be found in page number 39, Collected Works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, volume two, Birth Centenary edition.  The transliteration is my humble tribute to the Tagore, the child forever, the greatest poet and lyricist and philosopher of all times)

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