VOCATION

By: Rabindranath Tagore

 When the gong sounds ten in the morning and I walk to school by our lane.,

Every day I meet the hawker crying. “Bangles, crystal bangles!”

There is nothing to hurry him on, there is no road he must take, no place he

    must go to, no time when he must come home.

I wish I was a hawker, spending my day in the road, crying

, “Bangles, crystal bangles!”

When at four in the afternoon I come back from the school,

I can see through the gate of the house the gardener digging the ground.

He does what he likes with his spade he soils his clothes with dust, nobody

    takes him to task if he gets baked , he soils his clothes with dust, nobody

    takes him to task if he gets baked in the sun or gets wet.

I wish I were a gardener digging away at the garden with nobody to stop me from

     digging         

Just as it gets dark in the evening and my mother sends me to bed.

I can see through my open window the watchman walking up and down.

The lane is dark and lonely, and the street-lamp stands like a giant with one red

    eye in its head.

The watchman swings his lantern and walks with at his shadow at his side, and never         

    once goes to bed in his life.

I wish I were a watchman walking the streets all night, chasing the shadows with my                

    lantern.