Vocation - Ravindra Nath Tagore

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 streetlamp
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 street
all night, chasing the shadows with my
lantern.

  - RAVINDRANATH TAGORE