POEM
Over the green and yellow rice fields sweep the shadows of the autumn clouds, followed by the swift-chasing sun.
The bees forget to sip their honey; drunken with the light they foolishly hum and hover; and the ducks in the sandy riverbank clamour in joy for mere nothing.
None shall go back home, brothers, this morning, none shall go to work.
We will take the blue sky by storm and plunder the space as we run.
Laughters fly floating in the air like foams in the flood.
Brothers, we shall squander our morning in futile songs.
(“Over the green and yellow...”)
Rabindranath Tagore IOver the green and yellow rice fields sweep the shadows of the autumn clouds, followed by the swift-chasing sun.
The bees forget to sip their honey; drunken with the light they foolishly hum and hover; and the ducks in the sandy riverbank clamour in joy for mere nothing.
None shall go back home, brothers, this morning, none shall go to work.
We will take the blue sky by storm and plunder the space as we run.
Laughters fly floating in the air like foams in the flood.
Brothers, we shall squander our morning in futile songs.
Source: Poetry (June 1913).
This poem originally appeared in the June 1913 issue of Poetry.
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A native of Calcutta, India, who wrote in Bengali and often translated his own work into English, . . . MORE »
More Poems by Rabindranath Tagore
(“With a glance of your eyes...”)
(“Sing the song of the moment...”)
(“Amidst the rush and roar of life...”)
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