THE FURTHER BANK

 By: Rabindranath Tagore

I long to go over there in the further back of the river,

Where these boats are tied to the bamboo poles in a line;

Where men cross over in their boats in the morning with ploughs

   on their shoulders to till their far away fields;

Where the cowherds make their lowing cattle swim across to the

   riverside pasture;

Whence they all come back home in the evening, leaving the jackals

   to howl in the island overgrown with weeds

Mother, if you don’t mind, I mind, I should like to become the boatman

   of the ferry when I am grown up.

They say thre are strange pools hidden behind that high bank,

Where flocks of wild ducks come when the rains are over, and thick

     reeds grow round the margins where waterbirds lay their eggs;

Where snipes with their dancing tails stamp their tiny  upon the soft mind;

Where in the evening the tall grasses crested with with white flowers invite

   the moonbeam to float upon their waves.

Mother, if you don’t mind. I should like to become the boatman of the

   ferryboat when I am grown up.

I shall cross and cross back from bank to bank to bank, and all the boys

   and girls of the village will wonder at me while they are bathing.

When the sun climbs the mid sky and morning wears on to noon,

I shall come running to you, saying, “Mother, I am hungry!”

When the day is done and the shadows cover under the trees, I shall I come

   back in the dusk.

I shall never go away from you into the town to work like father.

Mother, if you don’t mind I should like to become the boatman of the

   ferryboat when I am grown up.