Clouds rumbling in the sky; teeming rain. <br />I sit on the river bank, sad and alone. <br />The sheaves lie gathered, harvest has ended, <br />The river is swollen and fierce in its flow. <br />As we cut the paddy it started to rain. <br /> <br />One small paddy-field, no one but me - <br />Flood-waters twisting and swirling everywhere. <br />Trees on the far bank; smear shadows like ink <br />On a village painted on deep morning grey. <br />On this side a paddy-field, no one but me. <br /> <br />Who is this, steering close to the shore <br />Singing? I feel that she is someone I know. <br />The sails are filled wide, she gazes ahead, <br />Waves break helplessly against the boat each side. <br />I watch and feel I have seen her face before. <br /> <br />Oh to what foreign land do you sail? <br />Come to the bank and moor your boat for a while. <br />Go where you want to, give where you care to, <br />But come to the bank a moment, show your smile - <br />Take away my golden paddy when you sail. <br /> <br />Take it, take as much as you can load. <br />Is there more? No, none, I have put it aboard. <br />My intense labour here by the river - <br />I have parted with it all, layer upon layer; <br />Now take me as well, be kind, take me aboard. <br /> <br />No room, no room, the boat is too small. <br />Loaded with my gold paddy, the boat is full. <br />Across the rain-sky clouds heave to and fro, <br />On the bare river-bank, I remain alone - <br />What had has gone: the golden boat took all.<br /><br />Rabindranath Tagore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-golden-boat/
