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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=480074" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Hero</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mother, let us imagine we are travelling, and passing through a<br>strange and dangerous country.<br> You are riding in a palanquin and I am trotting by you on a<br>red horse.<br> It is evening and the sun goes down. The waste of Joradighi<br>lies wan and grey before us. The land is desolate and barren.<br> You are frightened and thinking-&quot;I know not where we have come<br>to.&quot;<br> I say to you, &quot;Mother, do not be afraid.&quot;<br> The meadow is prickly with spiky grass, and through it runs<br>a narrow broken path.<br> There are no cattle to be seen in the wide field; they have<br>gone to their village stalls.<br> It grows dark and dim on the land and sky, and we cannot tell<br>where we are going.<br> Suddenly you call me and ask me in a whisper, &quot;What light is<br>that near the bank?&quot;<br> Just then there bursts out a fearful yell, and figures come<br>running towards us.<br> You sit crouched in your palanquin and repeat the names of the<br>gods in prayer.<br> The bearers, shaking in terror, hide themselves in the thorny<br>bush.<br> I shout to you, &quot;Don't be afraid, mother. I am here.&quot;<br> With long sticks in their hands and hair all wild about their<br>heads, they come nearer and nearer.<br> I shout, &quot;Have a care, you villains! One step more and you are<br>dead men.&quot;<br> They give another terrible yell and rush forward.<br> You clutch my hand and say, &quot;Dear boy, for heaven's sake, keep<br>away from them.&quot;<br> I say, &quot;Mother, just you watch me.&quot;<br> Then I spur my horse for a wild gallop, and my sword and<br>buckler clash against each other.<br> The fight becomes so fearful, mother, that it would give you<br>a cold shudder could you see it from your palanquin.<br> Many of them fly, and a great number are cut to pieces.<br> I know you are thinking, sitting all by yourself, that your<br>boy must be dead by this time.<br> But I come to you all stained with blood, and say,&quot;Mother, the<br>fight is over now.&quot;<br> You come out and kiss me, pressing me to your heart, and you<br>say to yourself,<br> &quot;I don't know what I should do if I hadn't my boy to escort<br>me.&quot;<br> A thousand useless things happen day after day, and why<br>couldn't such a thing come true by chance?<br> It would be like a story in a book.<br> My brother would say, &quot;Is it possible? I always thought he was<br>so delicate!&quot;<br> Our village people would all say in amazement, &quot;Was it not<br>lucky that the boy was with his mother?&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rabindranath+Tagore">Rabindranath Tagore</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=480074" data-title="The Hero de Rabindranath Tagore" data-description="Mother, let us imagine we are travelling, and passing through a
strange and dangerous country.
 You are riding in a palanquin and I am trotting by you on a
red horse.
 It is evening and the sun goes down. The waste of Joradighi
lies wan and grey b..."></div>
</div>
</div>