Oaktown Publications
Oaktown Publications
www.shafiahmed.net
Extract from the book "Tagore's Eleven"
THE PHANTOM BOAT
(The poem is thought to be an allegory: the soul
taking away the Karma leaving the body behind.)
The grey-black clouds rolled in the sky
the monsoon had come.
Rain fell thick, and lightning flashed
with thunder-beating drums.
Harvested was my paddy,
Bundled up neat and tidy,
The streams swelled strong and mighty
looking awesome.
As I cropped my rice field
the monsoon had come.
In a tiny patch of paddy
I was all alone.
The river flodded around me
and rose up in foam.
Through the streaming rain and mud-hue,
Indistinctly I glimpsed a view
Of the far bank which held a few
tree enclustered homes.
On my side of the bulging river
I was all alone.
Suddenly through it all I heard
a deep, throaty song.
And saw a small sailing boat
tacking along.
On with the gyrating torrent,
Against the treacherous current,
A lonely boatman sang and went
his helm held strong.
I seemed to know the boatman well
with his catchy song.
"Ahoy the boat, ahoy boatman,
where do you go?
Can you not steer for a moment
to touch on this shore?
Go later wherever you please,
Come only once to collect these,
My carefully reaped rice paddies:
I'll see you no more.
Please stop once to take this burden
from this lonely shore."
"Pile as much as you can take
on your little boat.
Have I any more? No, I have not
You now hold my load.
For this while by this river,
I was engrossed with whatever,
It has all been delivered
to you to transport.
I beg you to take me now
also on your boat."
There was no room, there was no room,
the boat was really small.
Every space was filled with paddy,
there was no room at all.
Thunder rumbled clear and aloud,
The darkened sky sundered the clouds,
Heaven poured through an open spout:
an incessant fall.
The phantom boat left me behind
transporting my all.
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