The Golden Boat
Amidst the thunder, tumultuous rain,
On the
solitary banks, a wait uncertain.
Beside me,
lingers the paddy stacked,
Silently,
those painstakingly packed,
In hordes,
the spiteful river attacked,
Sweeping
o’er the plain.
While I
reaped, down came the rain.
Lonely I
wait, on my fertile ground,
While the
swirling water, frolics around.
Across, I
see, a canvas forlorn.
Clouded and
shaded, daylight shorn.
My village,
veiled in the morn,
Serene and
profound.
In vain I
wait, on my small ground.
Whistling in sunny blithe, who sails yonder?
Familiar he
seems, as I look and ponder.
With high
sails fluttering midair,
Sails he, of
my shores, unaware,
The eager
waves, in despair,
Breaks
asunder.
Familiar he
seems, as I look and ponder.
Wherefore do
you sail, to which foreign land?
Pray dock
here once, on these pining sand.
Go forth
where thou desire,
Give to all
who aspire,
First, pray,
take this entire,
Every last
strand.
My golden
paddy, from these golden sand.
Take all you
wish, in your barge, aboard.
To the last
grain, stacked and shored.
On these
banks, over ages,
My
gatherings, my wages,
In your
barge of weathered edges,
My harvest
stored.
Now, pray
grant me, a seat onboard.
Alas! No room. Small was the boat.
Filled to
the brim, barely afloat.
While the
roving thundercloud,
Clapped
fierce and loud,
Remained I,
in this misty shroud,
Empty and
remote.
Leaving
nothing, away sailed the golden boat.
Original: “Shonar
Tori” by Rabindranath Tagore
Translating “Shonar Tori” (সোনার তরী) from the original has been something that I had aspired for long. This is arguably one of Tagore’s finest creations, and undoubtedly my personal favourite from his vast anthology of poems. I was introduced to this poem in my early boyhood days. And from the first time I read it, the lyricism and tragic overtones cast a spell on me. Much water has flown under the bridge. Many a summer has come and gone. Life has turned many a bend – but when I seek succour, in poetry, ‘The Golden Boat’ still comes first to my mind.
Tagore’s
ability to create vivid imagery is legendary. He was a classicist in the true
sense of the term. And a deeply sensitive man. His poetry was meant to be read,
recited, felt and sung all at the same time. In simple language, with
immaculate attention to rhyme and metre, his poetry strikes deep in your heart.
As you read and re-read his works, every time, a different interpretation is
unravelled. In time, the image of a simple peasant transporting his harvest makes
way to something more profound – that of unparalleled loss and sacrifice, to
that of selfless offering of one’s Karma at the altar of divinity.
This
is my humble attempt to recreate in English, the magic of Tagore’s “Shonar Tori”.
Nothing and nobody can probably scale the heights he has achieved. In thoughts
and words, he remains a beacon light. All I hope is that my effort has been
sincere. All I pray is that the English reader experiences a fraction of the joy
that this poem has given to millions of Bengali readers.
The
original poem, in Bengali, is included for those who can read the script.
গগনে গরজে মেঘ, ঘন বরষা।
কূলে একা বসে আছি, নাহি ভরসা।
রাশি রাশি ভারা ভারা
ধান-কাটা হল সারা,
ভরা নদী ক্ষুরধারা
খরপরশা--
কাটিতে কাটিতে ধান এল বরষা॥
একখানি ছোটো খেত, আমি একেলা---
চারি দিকে বাঁকা জল করিছে খেলা।
পরপারে দেখি আঁকা
তরুছায়ামসী-মাখা
গ্রামখানি মেঘে ঢাকা
প্রভাতবেলা---
এপারেতে ছোটো খেত, আমি একেলা॥
গান গেয়ে তরী বেয়ে কে আসে পারে!
দেখে যেন মনে হয়, চিনি উহারে।
ভরা পালে চলে যায়,
কোনো দিকে নাহি চায়,
ঢেউগুলি নিরুপায়
ভাঙে দু ধারে---
দেখে যেন মনে হয় চিনি উহারে॥
ওগো, তুমি কোথা যাও কোন্ বিদেশে?
বারেক ভিড়াও তরী কূলেতে এসে।
যেয়ো যেথা যেতে চাও,
যারে খুশি তারে দাও---
শুধু তুমি নিয়ে যাও
ক্ষণিক হেসে
আমার সোনার ধান কূলেতে এসে॥
যত চাও তত লও তরণী-পরে।
আর আছে?--- আর নাই, দিয়েছি ভরে॥
এতকাল নদীকূলে
যাহা লয়ে ছিনু ভুলে
সকলি দিলাম তুলে
থরে বিথরে---
এখন আমারে লহো করুণা ক'রে॥
ঠাঁই নাই, ঠাঁই নাই, ছোটো সে তরী
আমারি সোনার ধানে গিয়েছে ভরি।
শ্রাবণগগন ঘিরে
ঘন মেঘ ঘুরে ফিরে,
শূন্য নদীর তীরে
রহি নু পড়ি---
যাহা ছিল নিয়ে গেল সোনার তরী॥
