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When the night became dark
We ended our work
And we thought
None will come in this darkness.
In our village
All the doors were barred for the night
Some said, ‘The king will come’
We laughed and said,
‘At a night like this nobody will come.’
We seemed to have heard
A knock on the door
We said, ‘It must be the wind.’
In all our homes
Putting off our lamps
We went to sleep
Some however said,
‘Was it the messenger of the king?’
We laughed and said,
‘It must be the wind.’
In the dead of night
When we heard some sound
Half-asleep we thought
It was the rumbling of the cloud.
When breaking our sleep the earth shook
Some of us said,
‘It is the rolling of the wheels.’
We mumbled in our sleep,
‘It is the rumbling of the cloud.’
The night was still dark
When a bugle blew
And someone gave a call,
‘Wake up you all
Don’t sleep anymore.’
With bated breath we trembled in fear
Some of us said,
‘There we can see the flag of the king.’
Waking up we say,
‘Let us not make any delay.’
We had made no arrangements
There was no light
There were no flowers
The king has come to our land
But where is his throne
What a shame
There are no decorations
To welcome the king
There are not even enough men.
Some said in whispers
‘It is now useless to repent
With empty hand
Let us welcome the king.’
Open your doors
Blow your conch-shells
In this darkness
The king of the night has come.
With the flashing of lightning
The thunders are rumbling in the sky
Bring your worn mattresses
Cover your compound
In this sudden storm
The king has come to comfort us in our pain.
Translation of the poem Agaman from the collection Kheya (The Ferry) by Rabindranath Tagore.
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