Clouds and Waves - a Poem by Tagore

Clouds and Waves

Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me-
"We play from the time we wake till the day ends.
We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon."
I ask, "But how am I to get up to you ?"
They answer, "Come to the edge of the earth, lift up your
hands to the sky, and you will be taken up into the clouds."
photo by Brett Nickeson
"My mother is waiting for me at home, "I say, "How can I leave
her and come?"Then they smile and float away.
But I know a nicer game than that, mother.
I shall be the cloud and you the moon.
I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will
be the blue sky.
The folk who live in the waves call out to me-
"We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know
not where we pass."
I ask, "But how am I to join you?"
They tell me, "Come to the edge of the shore and stand with
your eyes tight shut, and you will be carried out upon the waves."
I say, "My mother always wants me at home in the everything-
how can I leave her and go?"
They smile, dance and pass by.
But I know a better game than that.
I will be the waves and you will be a strange shore.
I shall roll on and on and on, and break upon your lap with
laughter.
And no one in the world will know where we both are. 

Comments

  1. Lovely poem. And I love the opening photo. Where is it?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi James! I am not sure - I think it was a screen saver at one time...I always attribute when I can....breath taking, isn't it?

      Delete
  2. This is so beautiful! I have just begun a Poetry and Painting blog and will save this poem and/or poet for a possible future posting. Thank you...you are so inspiring!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. poetry and painting - sounds like a winner! what is the link?
      and thanks for your lovely, wonderful comments, Karen!

      Delete
  3. Beautiful post - I adore clouds and these are wonderful - Thank you for posting :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Who are the folk referred to here in the poem

    ReplyDelete
  5. That is the mystery - and we each have our own answer. :-)

    ReplyDelete

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