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When the flute will stop to play
And the lamps will go out
When the last curtain will drop on my days
To commemorate the poet
Please don’t crowd in a hall
Let your lectures not be long
Don’t make the mourning a show
Without expressing sorrows
In so many words
Avoiding quarrels
Between supporters and opponents
The chairman better stayed at home
And pass his time playing cards or chess.
This I know very well
I will be remembered by the flowers
They will always blossom.
In every season –
The summer, the rains and autumn -
In all their festivities
Everywhere in my memory
With love and care
They will spread their floral designs
With their songs
The birds will fill my silence.
The woodlands will remember
I made my songs with their tunes
In the spring wind, in the showers of rain
This will echo in the horizons.
Some time the sad evening cloud
Some time the glow of morning sun
Will brighten with golden light
My memorial meeting.
Where rustle those tamarisk trees
Let my memories remain woven there in my songs
Let them linger
In the smiles of drops of dews
On the shedding sheulis
Where in the mid-day sun
Shadows dream
Where neglecting my work
I spent my working hours in play
And in a lonely corner
I made my toys with dreams.
Translation of the poem Dinabasan from the collection Parishesh by Rabindranath Tagore. Written at Santiniketan on 25th Baisakh, (the poet’s birthday), 1333 BS (1927) when he was 66. The original poem is at http://www.rabindra-rachanabali.nltr.org/node/12112.
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