The Gardener :  The Rainy Day



The Gardener : The Rainy Day


Sullen clouds are gathering fast over the black fringe of the forest.


O child, do not go out!


The palm trees in a row by the lake are smiting their heads against the dismal sky; the crows with their dragged wings are silent on the tamarind branches, and the eastern bank of the river is haunted by a deepening gloom.


Our cow is lowing loud, ties at the fence.


O child, wait here till I bring her into the stall.


Men have crowded into the flooded field to catch the fishes as they escape from the overflowing ponds; the rain-water is running in rills through the narrow lanes like a laughing boy who has run away from his mother to tease her.


Listen, someone is shouting for the boatman at the ford.


O child, the daylight is dim, and the crossing at the ferry is closed.


The sky seems to ride fast upon the madly rushing rain; the water in the river is loud and impatient; women have hastened home early from the Ganges with their filled pitchers.


The evening lamps must be made ready.


O child, do not go out!


The road to the market is desolate, the lane to the river is slippery. The wind is roaring and struggling among the bamboo branches like a wild beast tangled in a net.


BY Rabindranath Tagore

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The Gardener : The Rainy Day





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