The Collected Plays. Rabindranath TagoreЧитать онлайн книгу.
awful!
Leader
And you will have rheumatics in all your joints.
How awful!
Leader
And you will become your own elder brothers, pulling your own ears to set yourselves right.
How awful!
Leader
And——
No more "ands." We are ready to surrender.
We will abandon our game of capturing the Old Man.
We will put it off till the cold weather. In this Springtime, your company will be enough for us.
Leader
Ah, I see! You have already got the chill of the Old Man in your bones.
Why? What are the symptoms?
Leader
You have no enthusiasm. You back out at the very start. Why don't you make a trial?
Very well. Agreed. Come on.
Let us go after the Old Man. We will pluck him out, like a grey hair, wherever we find him.
Leader
But the Old Man is an adept in the business of plucking out. His best weapon is the hoe.
You needn't try to frighten us like that. When we are out for adventure, we must leave behind all fears, all quatrains, all Pundits, and all Scriptures.
(They sing.)
We are out on our way
And we fear not the Robber, the Old Man.
Our path is straight, it is broad,
Our burden is light, for our pocket is bare,
Who can rob us of our folly?
For us there is no rest, nor ease, nor praise, nor success,
We dance in the measure of fortune's rise and fall,
We play our game, or win or lose,
And we fear not the Robber.
ACT II
SONG-PRELUDE
(Spring's Heralds try to rob Winter of his outfit of age.)
Rear stage lighted up, disclosing Old Winter teased by the boys and girls representing Spring's Heralds.
SONG OF THE HERALDS OF SPRING
We seek our playmates,
Waking them up from all corners before it is morning.
We call them in bird songs,
Beckon them in nodding branches.
We spread our spell for them in the splendour of clouds.
We laugh at solemn Death
Till he joins in our laughter.
We tear open Time's purse,
Taking back his plunder from him.
You shall lose your heart to us, O Winter.
It will gleam in the trembling leaves
And break into flowers.
SONG OF WINTER
Leave me, let me go.
I sail for the bleak North, for the peace of the frozen shore.
Your laughter is untimely, my friends.
You turn my farewell tunes into the welcome song of the Newcomer,
And all things draw me back again into the dancing ring of their hearts.
SONG OF THE HERALDS OF SPRING
Life's spies are we, lurking in ambush everywhere.
We wait to rob you of your last savings of withered hours to scatter them in the wayward winds.
We shall bind you in flower chains where Spring keeps his captives,
For we know you carry your jewels of youth hidden in your grey rags.
(NOON)
(The rear stage is darkened. The band of Youths enters on the main stage. No actual change in the scenery is necessary—this being left to the imagination of the audience.)
Ferryman! Ferryman! Open your door.
Ferryman
What do you want?
We want the Old Man.
Ferryman
Which old man?
Not which old man. We want the Old Man.
Ferryman
Who is he?
The true and original Old Man.
Ferryman
Oh! I understand. What do you want him for?
For our Spring Festival.
Ferryman
For your Spring Festival? Are you become mad?
Not a sudden becoming. We have been like this from the beginning.
And we shall go on like this to the end.
(They sing.)
The Piper pipes in the centre, hidden from sight.
And we become frantic, we dance.
The March wind, seized with frenzy,
Runs and reels, and sways with noisy branches.
The sun and stars are drawn in the whirl of rapture.
Now, Ferryman, give us news of the Old Man.
You ply your boat from one landing stage to another. Surely you know where——
Ferryman
My business is limited only to the path. But whose path it is, and what it means, I have no occasion to enquire. For my goal is the landing-stage, not the house.
Very well. Let us go, let us try all the ways.
(They sing.)
The Piper pipes in the centre, hidden from sight.
Ah, the turbulent tune, to whose time the oceans dance,
And dance our heaving hearts.
Fling away all burdens and cares, brother,
Do not be doubtful of your path,
For the path wakes up of itself
Under the dancing steps of freedom.
Ferryman
There comes the Watchman. Ask him. I know about the way; but he knows about the wayfarers.
Watchman
Who are you?
We are just what you see. That's our only description.
Watchman
But what do you want?
We want the Old Man.
Watchman
Which old man?
That eternal Old Man.
Watchman
How absurd! While you are seeking him, he is after you.
Why?