Sajak Rabindranath TagorePada waktu pagi hari, bunyi gong
berdentang 10 kali, aku pergi ke
sekolah berjalan melewati jalan kita,
Setiap hari aku bertemu si penjaja
berseru, "Gelang, gelang kristal!"
Tak ada yang membuatnya tergesa,
tak ada jalan yang harus ia lewati,
tak ada tempat yang harus ditujunya,
tak ada waktu mengharuskannya pulang.
Seandainya akulah sang penjaja itu,
habis waktu seharian di jalananan itu,
"Gelang, gelang kristal," aku berseru.
Jam 4 sore, ketika aku pulang sekolah,
Lewat gerbangnya, kulihat rumah petani,
dia menggali lubang di tanah ladangnya.
Dengan bajaknya, ia melakukan apa
yang menggembirakannya, dia selekehkan
tanah pada baju kerjanya, tak ada yang
menegurnya karena ia terbakar matahari
atau ketika ia basah bermandikan hujan.
Seandainya akulah petani itu menggali
di kebun dan tak ada yang menghentikan
dan aku terus saja menggali.
Hingga hari gelap juga ketika malam tiba
dan ibu membimbingku ke tempat tidur,
Kulihat lewat jendelaku yang terbuka
peronda malam berjalan tegak runduk.
Jalan kecil gelap dan sepi, dan lampu jalan
tegak seperti raksasa, satu mata merah di kepala.
Sang peronda menyayun lentera
dan berjalan bersama bayang-bayang
di sisinya, dan tak sekalipun dalam
hidupnya menuju ke ranjang.
Seandainya akulah sang peronda berjalan
sepanjang malam di sepanjang jalanan,
berkejaran dengan lampu dan bayangan.
* Sajak ke-25, The Crescent Moon.///
Vocation
When the gong sounds ten in the morning and I walk to school by
our lane,
Every day I meet the hawker crying, "Bangles, crystal bangles!"
There is nothing to hurry him on, there is no road he must take,
no place he must go to, no time when he must come home.
I wish I were a hawker, spending my day in the road, crying,
"Bangles, crystal bangles!"
When at four in the afternoon I come back from the school,
I can see through the gate of that house the gardener digging the
ground.
He does what he likes with his spade, he soils his clothes with
dust, nobody takes him to task if he gets baked in the sun or
gets wet.
I wish I were a gardener digging away at the garden with nobody
to stop me from digging.
Just as it gets dark in the evening and my mother sends me to
bed,
I can see through my open window the watchman walking up and
down.
The lane is dark and lonely, and the street-lamp stands like a
giant with one red eye in its head.
The watchman swings his lantern and walks with his shadow at his
side, and never once goes to bed in his life.
I wish I were a watchman walking the streets all night, chasing
the shadows with my lantern.