The Unheeded Pageant Poem by Rabindranath Tagore

Ah, who was it colored that little frock,

my child, and covered your sweet limbs

with that little red tunic?

You have come out in the morning

to play in the courtyard,

tottering and tumbling as you run.

But who was it colored that little frock, my child?

What is it makes you laugh, my little life-bud?

Mother smiles at you standing on the threshold.

She claps her hands and her bracelets jingle,

and you dance with your bamboo stick in

your hand like a tiny little shepherd.

But what if it makes you laugh,

my little life-bud?

O beggar, what do you bed for,

clinging to your mother's neck

with both your hands?

O greedy heart,

shall I pluck the world like a fruit from the

sky to place it on your little rosy palm?

O beggar, what are you begging for?

The wind carries away in glee the

the tinkling of your anklet bells.

The sun smiles and watches your toilet.

The sky watches over you when you sleep in your mother's arms,

and the morning comes tiptoe to your bed and kisses your eyes.

The wind carried away in glee the

the tinkling of your anklet bells.

The fairy mistress of dreams is coming towards you,

flying through the twilight sky.

The world mother keeps her seat by

you in your mother's heart.

He who plays his music to the stars is

standing at your window with his flute.

And the fairy mistress of dreams is coming towards you,

flying through the twilight sky.

Rabindranath Tagore