Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you

We do not know who the tambourine man is here, who is it playing and for why, what has happened to him that he is playing the tambourine and is dancing too like a mendicant, who the folk singer is, the folk dancer is, we mean the folk bard-singer, singer and dancer, dancing and singing, singing and dancing and playing? Not with the sarangi or the ekatara, but with the tambourine, he is playing, singing and dancing, rapt in the music of the soul, the music of the heart. The tambourine man is singing from his heart, from his soul, so heartfully yours, so song-fully yours and his song the song of life and his dance the dance of life, singing and dancing and playing to feel the joy of life and living. Like a balladeer, a music-maker, he is singing and making music, just like a folk singer with the folk instrument.

We do not know what it the source of the tambourine man. What provoked him to write? But whatever be that he is a singer, he is a dancer, he is a player, Mr. Tambourine Man. Maybe it that somebody else has introduced the tambourine, maybe it that he is trying to take it otherwise shrugging off the drug impact. It also may be that he is thinking ecclesiastically. Whatever be the image here, be that of Christ, he is trying to muse philosophically.

The song is lyrical, mystical and thoughtful and this is the ground for which the poem is included in college literature textbooks. He is not going anywhere. He is where he was. Where to go leaving the tambourine and his home?

When the times end, evenings vanish into nights giving away, what does it remain here? Speak you, O Tambourine Man! Why is he waiting and for whom and what, he cannot say that what is taking to the longer paths? All the ways and paths have turned into a fiasco. Futility grips us. Day’s end, where does it take to finally, the paths of life, where do they? Can man say? How the going of life? How the pathway of life? Who the traveler? And how the travel of life, Tambourine Man? Why is the night as such? The evening has slipped away. But he still keeping late. There is none to meet but is frittering away time.

Though I know that evenin’s empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me, I’m branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street’s too dead for dreaming

He has come a long way and is feeling fatigued. It is now time to be back home. All the magic is gone. Where the ship, how to board it? Just keep you singing and dancing, playing the tambourine. My spirits seem to have exhausted and exasperated, seem to have gone down. Just the heels of the boots seem to be shaking, keeping pace with unstable steps. I am ready to go anywhere. I am ready to fade into my parade till the retreat is finished. My way I have to go it alone, trudging and treading it. I promise to be under your spell, the magic and incantation of your tambourine, but let us see what happens.

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship
My senses have been stripped, my hands can’t feel to grip
My toes too numb to step
Wait only for my boot heels to be wanderin’
I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it

You may feel how spirited, noble and good playing guy is the tambourine man, but the reality is far from it, he is not so as you take him for. The sky is the limit. The earth is the end way. Whatever do we, laughing, spinning and swinging across the sun, it is as because we like to do personally, and this is not going to make any difference. There is nothing for granted or guaranteed, be sure of it. We are just idling away our time. We have a very short span of time. We are but time’s clowns. Time the record-keeper is the clown of clowns. Everything is but false. We are nothing. We get engaged for or in for nothing. If falter and skip you, it is but as for the ragged clown making you err. I do not mind all these as are bound to happen, things go lurking behind shadows and our existence too is shadowy. Our chasing from shadow to shadow, is it not the truth?

Though you might hear laughin’, spinnin’, swingin’ madly across the sun
It’s not aimed at anyone, it’s just escapin’ on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin’
And if you hear vague traces of skippin’ reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it’s just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn’t pay it any mind
It’s just a shadow you’re seein’ that he’s chasing

He wants to be away to don a different character and to be indifferent to life and its values as he has come to know, has come to understand, giving away to finally. From the curls of smokes, trails of it, away from the rings of his mind, down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves, the haunted and frightened trees, out to the windy beach he wants to go to away from sorrow following into the footsteps. I want to forget it today until tomorrow. Let me be free. Let me dance and enjoy the lovely sky so scenic and panoramic. There is a life in being free, liberated from. There is nothing as to derive for pleasure.

Then take me disappearin’ through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow