In the evening
With a staff in his hand and a load on his head
Walking along the river bank
A villager goes back home.
If after centuries this tiller of the soil
In a miracle returns from the kingdom of death
With the same load on his head
Curious crowds will assemble around him
To listen to every word he will say –
About his joys and sorrows
His love and affection
His neighbors, his home
His fields and cattle and the crops grown.
Today his stories are meaningless
But they will sound like great poetry
Centuries hence.
Translation of the sonnet Samanya lok from the collection Chaitali (The Summer Harvest) by Rabindranath Tagore. Compare no. 17 of The Fugitive III.
