Baronhawk's Nest

There is room for you. You are alone with your few sheaves of rice.
My boat is crowded, it is heavily laden, but how can I turn you
away? Your young body is slim and swaying; there is a twinkling
smile in the edge of your eyes, and your robe is coloured like the
rain cloud.

The travellers will land for different roads and homes. You
will sit for a while on the prow of my boat, and at the journey's
end none will keep you back.

Where do you go, and to what home, to garner your sheaves? I
will not question you, but when I fold my sails and moor my boat
I shall sit and wonder in the evening, -Where do you go, and to
what home, to garner your sheaves?


This is perhaps Tagore's lesson to educate us to the true nature of longing, of the long and difficult road which brings many hearts together but always keeps them pining. Tis' the way of the world for many, the reason why some matched-up hearts never truly meet, despite the depths by which their souls connect. One always the boatman, the other always the transient beauty.