The Collected Plays. Rabindranath Tagore
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Название: The Collected Plays

Автор: Rabindranath Tagore

Издательство: Bookwire

Жанр: Языкознание

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isbn: 4064066396039

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СКАЧАТЬ left me behind to give you hope.

      When did he go?

      Minstrel

      In the first hour of the watch.

      Now the third hour has passed, I think. The air is chilly.

      I dreamt that three women, with their hair hanging loose——

      Oh, leave off your dream-women. I am sick of your dreams.

      Everything appears darkly ominous. I didn't notice before the hooting of the owl. But now——

      Do you hear that dog whining on the far bank of the river?

      It seems as though a witch were riding upon him and lashing him.

      Surely, if it had been possible, Chandra would have come back by now.

      How I wish this night were over.

      Do you hear the woman's cry?

      Oh, the women, the women. They are ever crying and weeping. But they cannot turn those back, who must go forward.

      It is getting unbearable to sit still like this. Men imagine all sorts of things when they sit still. Let us go also. As soon as we are started on our way fear will leave us.

      But who will show us the way?

      There is the blind Minstrel.

      What do you say, Minstrel? Can you show us the way?

      Minstrel

      Yes.

      But we can hardly believe you. How can you find out the path by simply singing?

      If Chandra never comes back, you shall.

      We never knew that we loved Chandra so intensely. We made light of him all these days.

      When we are in the playing mood, we become so intent on the play, that we neglect the playmate.

      But, if he once comes back, we shall never neglect him any more.

      I am afraid that we have often given him pain.

      Yet his love rose above all that. We never knew how beautiful he was, when we could see him every day.

      (They sing.)

      When there was light in my world

       You stood outside my eyes.

       Now that there is none,

       You come into my heart.

       When there were dolls for me, I played;

       You smiled and watched from the door.

       Now that the dolls have crumbled to dust,

       You come and sit by me.

       And I have only my heart for my music,

       When my lute-strings have broken.

      That Minstrel sits so still and silent. I don't like it.

      He looks ominous,—like the lowering autumn cloud.

      Let us dismiss him.

      No, no. It gives us heart, when he sits there.

      Don't you see that there is no sign of fear in his face?

      It seems as if some messages were striking his forehead. His body appears to espy some one in the distance. There seem to be eyes on the tips of his fingers.

      Simply by watching him, we can see that some one is coming through the dark.

      Look. He is standing up. He is turning towards the East, and making his obeisance.

      Yet there is nothing to be seen, not even a streak of light.

      Why not ask him what it is that he sees?

      No, don't disturb him.

      Do you know, it seems to me that the morning has dawned in him.

      As if the ferry-boat of light had reached the shore of his forehead.

      His mind is still, like the morning sky.

      The storm of birds' songs will burst out presently.

      He is striking his lute. His heart is singing.

      Hush. He is singing.

      (The Minstrel sings.)

      Victory to thee, victory for ever,

       O brave heart.

       Victory to life, to joy, to love,

       To eternal light.

       The night shall wane, the darkness shall vanish,

       Have faith, brave heart.

       Wake up from sleep, from languor of despair,

       Receive the light of new dawn with a song.

      (A ray of light hovers before the cavern.)

      Ah! There he is. Chandra! Chandra!

      Hush. Don't make any noise. I cannot see him distinctly.

      Ah! It cannot be any other than Chandra.

      Oh, what joy!

      Chandra! Come!

      Chandra! How could you leave us for so long?

      Have you been able to capture the Old Man?

      Chandra

      Yes, I have.

      But we don't see him.

      Chandra

      He is coming.

      But what did you see in the cave? Tell us.

      Chandra

      No, I cannot tell you.

      Why?

      Chandra

      If my mind were a voice, then I could tell you.

      But could you see him, whom you captured? Was he the Old Man of the World?

      The Old Man who would like to drink up the sea of youth in his insatiable thirst.

      Was it the One who is like the dark night, whose eyes are fixed on his breast, whose feet are turned the wrong way round, who walks backwards?

      Was СКАЧАТЬ