Some poems of Tagore, translation, transliteration and interpretations,

Some poems of Tagore,
Translation, transliteration and interpretations,

Over the years I have translated and transliterated some poems and songs of Rabindranath Tagore, purely out of my love for his songs and poems. In most cases, I tried to find Tagore’s love and passion as presented in his poems and songs and while doing so, sometimes added a word or two just to help the idea as interpreted by me to emerge , keeping in mind the basic tenet of Tagorean songs/ poems. So in that sense, in some cases they can be called my humble interpretations of Tagore’s poems as well.
Putting together all those translated and transliterated works into one single document had been my objective for quite some time.
I am glad that I have been able to do that just a few days before Tagore’s birth anniversary.



Where my moving stops
There whence I (like a leaf) drop
There how opens thy door;

Where my song ends
Whence it ( towards thy Self ) bends

There how the silent ocean lies;

Where my eyes get closed
With (thy )darkness whence it opens
There how the Eternity lights up;

The flower outside blooms
Onto dust how it swoons
Within me how thence
ambrosaic fruit bears essence;

Whence to thee
My works I see
How thence my words flow
Finding in the sky thy eternal show;

Whence I lose me
Spent absolute,
How do I find thee
In Thou how I find me.

(*note: it is a transliteration/ translation of a poem/ song of Rabindranath Tagore, number 100, as can be found in ‘গীতালি ‘ / ‘ Geetali’ section , page number 449, Collected Works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, volume two, Birth Centenary edition. )


Now have I scraped out time-
Whence wilt thy time come,
Put the taper there at thy door
Whence wilt thou light it up,
Shoved away all burden
Tied the boat at the ghat-
Left all the seeking on roads
Selling wares, buying up in markets
Of the ville;

At the evening that mallika which blooms
Her fragrance fills my room,
On leaves of lotus jasmine have I gathered
Only to pay obeiscance to thy feet,
Kept my mind for thee, calm and restive
For thou have I adorned my self
With sandalwood paste;

Spent the whole day doing works
Now whence thy time wilt come,
May I ask;

Whence the moon wilt rise tonight
By the side of the river
Hovering quiet over those coconut trees,
How the courtyard of the temple
Would find light embracing the shadows of trees;

The southern breeze would blow sudden
Bringing forth the tide-
The tied boat mine by waves so touched,
Would how with the ghat converse
About his longings and dreams
( expansive and vast);

Whence the tide would with the bay get merged
Whence the water would become still,
The breeze whence would become mild
The moon would also go to sleep,
How then would with indolence come sleep
Only to lie at thy feet;

Sitting quiet leaving my sleep on ground
How on wait I for time thine
Get bound.

(*note : it is a transliteration / translation of a poem of Rabindranath Tagore titled ‘প্রতীক্ষা ‘ / ‘ Pratiksha’ , as can be found in page number 195-196 , volume two, ‘ খেয়া’ / ‘ kheya’ section, Collected Works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, Birth Centenary edition.)
I only said
‘ can anyone for me
Take down the full moon
From that kadam tree
Right at the evening’
My words thus listening
Brother said laughing
‘ never seen anyone so
Like a fool like you
Moon resides far away
How can I touch the orb
Of silver’;
I said ‘ that I do not know
But whence our Mother
Smile through that window
Will you say the same
That our Mother stays
Far away, at some distant lane’;
Still brother said
‘never seen anyone so
Like a fool like you’;
Brother said
‘ where will you find
Such a big string or instrument
To bring moon here
To her bind’;
And I did revert
‘ yonder lies the moon
The small rounded one
Can not with ease
Her we by our hands bring
Listening to me thus
Brother laughed
‘ never seen so anyone near and far
Like a fool as you are ‘;

(* note: it is a transliteration of a poem of Rabindranath Tagore as can be found in page number 36-37, ‘ শিশু’ / ‘ Shishu’ section, Collected Works / রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, volume two, Birth Centenary edition )

Those angels who live in the clouds
They how call me, how me they call;
They say ‘ Gee! How we play
From morn to afternoon to eve,
( with the passage of the day)
In the morn with golden rays
At night with silvery flakes
Of the moon
( how with her songs we swoon)

And I them ask,’ how can I in your joys bask?’
They say, ‘ Come with us to the end of the field
There we’ll with mirth do seal
You would’ve just to stand there quiet
And stretching your hands up stand upright
We’ll take you to the land of clouds’;

I tell them , ‘ Mother is there at home
Looking forward to meet me
How can I leave her
Only to see
Your fantasy?’

Hearing this, O mother,
How they go afloat
Only giggling;

Instead mother, I will be the clouds
And you wilt the moon be,
By my arms will you I embrace
We will make the sky on the terrace;

All those angels who live in waves
How me they call, how they call me
Saying, ( after rising from the blue blue sea)
‘ We only sing from the very beginning
Of the day,
We sing for all who want to be jocund and gay’;

They say , ‘ To which country do we go
No one that does really know’ ;

And I to them tell , ‘ How can I go?’
They ask me, ‘ why can’t you come to the ghat’s end
There standing quiet , closing your eyes
You should us call,
And we’ll take you sure
To the land of waves pure’ ;

I to them tell, ‘ Mother mine always me calls
When the day ends and the evening does fall,
How can I her so , for you leave?’

Hearing this, O mother
How they go afloat
Only giggling;

Instead mother, will I the wave be
And you a farway country,
I will go to sleep
On thy lap,
And no one will find us
With You in glory
Will I bask.

(* note : it is a transliteration of a poem of Rabindranath Tagore, titled ‘ মাতৃবৎসল’ / ‘ Matribotsol’ , as can be found in page number 39, Collected Works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, volume two, Birth Centenary edition. )


At what point of time
Know not me
Out of the infinite depth of sea
Of immense creativity
Rose Two;
One , the angel of heaven
The Goddess with splendour
Who could incite desire
And the other
The Goddess of Goodwill
And compassion
Filled with Love-
The primary potion
The Goddess of Heaven,

One meditation broke
Filling the cup
With laughter and fire
Putting desire
Of beauty
Purely ‘ falguni’,
She gave rise to songs
Of springs, of youth,
Which could never be kept at bay
For long,

(Like that flowery chants

Which come out spontaneous

From intoxicated hearts)

She took away sleep,
Made the bud of rose
To turn sanguine, red
Where passion is always bred;

The Other how returned
With tears of dew
Pouring forth
That serene feel
Of finding morning of life, renewed;
How She returned
With the sky full of bless
How She made all to smile
Finding solace, in self contentment;

How She had all brought
To that sublime thought
Where all could find
How the pristine could bind
All at that meeting point
Of life and death,
How She had ushered in the eternal
The songs of seasons, the autumn,( the fall,)
How She had implanted that pure
Where we can only by Devotion lured.

{*note: it is a transliteration of a poem / song number 23, of Rabindranath Tagore, as can be found in ‘ Balaka’ ( বলাকা) section of his Collected Works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, volume two, page number 500.}

Child O my child
Playing with dust
How you spend
Your day without end;
I just smile
Seeing you thus
Playing with bunch of grass;

And I remain how
With books and copies
My mind I rake
My soul I plough;
The copies I fill
With drawings and sketches
Moments of time I seal;

Child O my child
Playing with dust
How have I forgotten
Many little things;
Where could I get
Toys , thinking about them
How I have lost in the game
How go I searching in vain
Gold and silver how I gather
False (thinking thy name);

And You, the Child
How you do create
Whatever in hands thine
You with ease get,

And I how spend time
Wishing to get
Which is not in my fate;

How do i go beyond
The implausible
How by that
Do I turn a song, (a fable,)
How do I on the river of dreams
Float my boat ( as it seems).

{*note: it is a transliteration of a song/ poem of Rabindranath Tagore, titled ‘নির্লিপ্ত ‘ ( Nirlipto) as can be found in ‘ শিশু’ ( Shishu) section of Collected Works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, volume two, Birth Centenary edition. }


My freedom lies in the lighted sky

My freedom doth in dust and grass lie;

How I lose my self beyond the body and mind
In songs my liberty how do I oft find;
My freedom , in the minds of all , lies
In works hard which dangers and plight trivialise;

In the Lord’s sacrificial fire how my self I free
As if in that self annihilation I always find Thee.

(*note: this poem is a transliteration of a song/ poem of Rabindranath Tagore, )

Have not the courage to be
A small child so
With old age how I grow;
Try to save trivial things
With them boxes how I fill
Full upto brim;
Yesterday’s thoughts
How come today
How they brought
Tomorrow’s burden;
How that quest never ends
As I keep on the search
Those have I gathered
How discover I
Have no value
(So do I search
For eternity);

Being afraid of future
Can’t get to see
Where doth the path lie
Day after tomorrow
(Where wilt I be)
Future will remain
In future such
When wilt the holiday
Come with mirth?

Try to light up
My mind’s candle
Which just flickers
In the breeze and does tell
To walk me tip toeing;
So many people
So many friends
They advice bring,
So many little things
Nitty gritty they send
( how I take the path
That goes by without bends);

Come there that assurance
Again in me ,
To find that child
Within my mind’s sea;
Let there be that breeze
Which can touch my sails
As I wish to go floating
Without fail(s);

Wish to go beyond
The future so
That can I see
The present through;

At the terrace
At the bank of pond,
How I wish to learn
The unknown , Unbound;

(*note: it is a transliteration of first three stanzas of a poem of Rabindranath Tagore, as can be found in volume two, collected works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, birth centenary edition);
Mother, if thou have been the sky
And the champa tree, I,
With you without words
Would’ve I conversed;

The breeze from thou
Touching branches mine
Would’ve called me
With tunes for a dance, to thee;

Without words how can I
Pay heed to calls thine,
so my words doth fly
Falling on the leaves that shine;

Thy light to my dewy drenched soul
Would have whispered and told
Upon, making me sing
A song of joy (perhaps
As it would bring);

Then I would have made
All my buds to bloom pure
As they would have said
All the words, dancing sure;

The shadow of thy cloud
Floating in from somewhere
Touching mine for a while
Would again go away like a feather;

It would then become
That fanciful tale
And story of that prince
Who had gone beyond
kingdoms several;

He would have told me
Where lied that vine
Where lived the sea monster
Where the princess with beauty
Did everything bind;

Would have seen
those teary eyes
Of the queen
Heaving a sigh
And my leaf would
Tremble too
Seeing that
Heart rending view;

Then all of a sudden
Whence the rain
Would catch
The breeze even,
The drops of water
Would then dance
On my leaves
All by rhythmic chance;

They would then become
Thy recitation
Of Ramayana , epical,
They would then turn
The rains that fall;

Mother, if Thou hath been
That blue colored one
And me, a child small,
Thou would have been
The smile of the light
And me would just be
A trembling leaf
at thy sight;

You would have
From the sky
Opened your eyes,
And stretching hands I
Would just sing (for eternity);

Thou would be then
The starry night
(Not a feign)
And would I
Just give a try
To make flowers
Bloom everyday
( in words , stories and lays)

(* note: it is a transliteration of a poem of Rabindranath Tagore as can be found in page 609, vol.two, collected works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি , birth centenary edition.)
Onto white and pristine sails
whence the mild breeze touch,
Never seen rowing of the Boat such;
From which land beyond the seas
Which treasure it brings never ceased,
With it the mind wishes to float,
And wishes to leave all desires and wants,
(Singing perhaps Thy songs with ease
As they come out from throat)

How the stream keeps on falling,
How the rumble can be heard,
How the ray of lighted beams
Comes through the clouds unbarred;

O Thou the Boatman, who art Thou, whose laughter and tears
by thy boat You tow,
How mind mine thinks of thee-
With which tune You would string
the day’s song ( giving it a meaning)
Which prayer would be sung (for long).

(* note: it is a transliteration of a song/ poem of Rabindranath Tagore, as can be found in collected works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি,
song number 145, volume four, birth centenary edition.)

Never tried to know Thou still mind mine moves to thee
Never knowing Thou the World still rests in Thee,
Thy immense Beauty who had felt true
That sweetness eternal and new-
How have I given my soul to thee
So unknowingly,
Thou art the light of luminosity,
I am blinded in the darkness,
Thou art free , epitome of liberty,
I am immersed in that shoreless sea,
Thou art endless, I am so tiny, beggarly-
How we meet by wonder , You and me.

( * note: it is a transliteration of a poem of Rabindranath Tagore , as can be found in collected works / রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি , volume four, page 650, song/poem number 48. )
How many times have I thought
To feet thine should’ve my heart brought,

Holding thy feet, friend mine, will express
How much do I love thee in secret,

Thought as Thou hath been the God of Heaven
How could a mere mortal like me say my love even,

Thought will live at a distance from thee
All through my life will just remain a devotee,

No one wilt know my love so deep
No one wilt see where my tears me keep,

Now today whence Thou hath arrived to ask
How can I say how much Thou do I love.

( * Note: it is a transliteration of a song written by Rabindranath Tagore, included in ‘ প্রেম ও প্রকৃতি ‘ / Love and Nature section of his collected works, volume four, birth centenary edition, page 675.)
Told her , ” Queen
So many poets have come to thee
(Crossing lands and seas)
To put gifts at thy feet
I have also hearing that
Come to sing like the bird at thy door
Morning as songs pour”;

The Queen came to window
Veiled as she and said,
” Now that is winter,
Sky mine is filled with mist
Garden has no blossoms”;

Told her, ” Queen
Beyond that sea brought for thee
My music, my flute,
Can you not unveil thy face
Only wish to trace
Light in eyes thine”;

She said , ” I have not put on colorful dress today,
Hey poet, impatient, please go back
When the sweetness of falgun would come
I will you beckon,
When will I sit on blossoms,
I will ask you to come and sit
Just by my side
(As we would see the beauty thence
And have a treat);

Told her , ” Queen
I think this journey
Has been by thee
Turned fruitful
For have I heard
Songs of hopes full;
In the mild breeze of spring
Inviting thee to my garden
in blooming flowers
Thou will I see;
On that day of succulent joy
Filled by fragrance thine
Will I find my path to that window thine
Thence will with thee come good times mine;
Today while going away will I be singing true
Songs only hailing thee”.

(* note : this poem is a transliteration of a poem of Rabindranath Tagore titled ‘ইটালিয়া’ / ‘ Italia’ as can be found in page number 727- 728 , Collected Works / রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, volume two, Birth Centenary edition. )

Who art thou
Who people doth ferry!
And I sitting at the door
See how you take
People from one ghat
To another,
You ferryman smart!
Whence the day ends
And men , women , children
From the market come to you
How I also think of rushing to thee
You, the ferryman, how you I see
(And think why can’t you ferry me!)

At the twilight hours
How you take your boat
To the other side
Seeing that how a tune strikes
The chord of my heart
And how do for you I sing!
You, the ferryman, how you people
From distant lands bring!
On the waters, how the golden hue
From the other side
Silken patterns drew,
And how in my eyes
They twinkle with longings due
Enveloping my heart, my soul,
O You, the ferryman bold!

Seen how You speak not a word
You the Ferryman, my heart’s joy, The Lord!
Try to find, what is there written in Thy eyes,
If by chance, Thy eyes,
Upon my countenance lies
How do I feel to go
Ferryman, only to Thou!

(*note: it is a transliteration of a poem of Rabindranath Tagore titled ‘ খেয়া’ /’ Kheya’, as can be found in page number 212, Collected Works/রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, volume two, Birth Centenary edition. )
If it is a holiday
Float on water
Boat mine
Made of paper;
Write on it
In words
My name
The street
The ville
Names such
In bold alphabets
Before the boat
Do i set
If it would reach
Someone’s hand
He would know
From which land
The boat had come
Sailing so;

The boat mine
How do i decorate
With ‘ shiuli ‘ and ‘bokul’,
In the garden
Early morn
How the blossoms
Gather and fall
Under the trees
And with dews
On their lips
How do they glitter
As the light of the morn
Piercing winter
Set them with beauty;

And that little boat
How goes with flowers
Towards the end of the day
Whence it reaches the bay
It there how delivers
Those ‘ shiuli’ and ‘bokul’ flowers,

Floating my boat on water
How do i just sit and stare
At it, little waves whence rise and fall
The light of the sun whence shine on them all,
The birds giving calls how go away flying
The mild breeze whence blowing saying
How the day has come again after night
( O how do I with dreams wish to take a flight!);

How little cloudlets float in the sky
Like my little boat how they fly
How they go away , in the ocean of light
To which land , to which country them, people sight,
Those cloudlets and my little boat
How they just haply with each other vie;

At the twilight how they pull me out of home
How with them do I feel the presence of the awesome,
To which village, goes floating my boat
No one knows where it wilt go afloat;
No one stops it , no one compels,
How my boat just goes where it wishes to sail,
Goes it to newer lands, newer seas,
The paper boat mine how goes on unceased,
And rowing with it how does mind mine also go
To newer discoveries how the boat I row;

(*note : it is a transliteration of a poem by Rabindranath Tagore titled ‘কাগজের নৌকা’ / Paper Boat, as can be found in page 61-62, volume two, ‘ শিশু’ / Shishu section , Collected Works / রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, Birth Centenary edition. )

That boat of Madhu the boatman
Is left tied at the ghat of Rajganj
No one is taking it
As it is filled with jute raw;
If they would give me that
I would attach hundred oars
To it would fly sails four five six-
Would I not with it float
Selling wares , instead would I
Go even if for once
Away voyaging
Seven seas thirteen rivers, just sailing;

Then You should not cry, sitting
At the corner of the hut, lone,
Iwould not go away like Rama
For fourteen years to some forest;

Iwould go like a prince
Carrying wealth in the boat
Would take Ashu and Shyam with me
Would we go sailing, we three;
Would go for once voyaging
Seven seas thirteen rivers crossing;

At the morn would set the boat free
And how it would go all by itself (to the sea),
At the noon You would be
At the bank of the pond
Then we would’ve new kingdom found;

Would go beyond that ghat of Tirpurni
Would go beyond that faraway land,
It would take the whole day for me
To come back to thee,
At the twilight hours surely would
Tell You stories where I had gone
Sitting on thy lap,

Only would I go for once
Crossing seven seas thirteen rivers.

{*note : it is a translation/ transliteration of a poem titled ‘ Noukajatra’ ( নৌকাযাত্রা), as can be found at page 31, volume two, ‘ Shishu’ ( শিশু) section, Collected Works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, Birth Centenary edition. }
There’s no end to my devotion to thee,
whence in You do I see,
all my wishes and desires
(Melting into tranquility);

This search, is it for fruits?
(Or for corns? )
Nay for that wilt be
Taking away me
From thee,
(Can never carry that burden
If I think only of fruits,
coming to me sudden),
Instead leaving the fruits
Do I soulful sing,
To make buds bloom;

Thus in my life comes
That eagerness like a balm,
Which brings new pains
With newer creative sense;

Once do I get things I wish
They with time only diminish
And I (opening to thy sky)
Stretch my hands again
To get more of thy perpetual music
Thy perennial sense that sticks,

And how that keeps on
Me getting Thy ambrosaic potion
And I turning them to songs.

(*note: it is a transliteration of poem/ song number 37, as can be found in page number 411, Collected Works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি , Birth Centenary edition. )
If thou hath reached the shore
Leave thy oar
Take my hands instead
For moments make me sit
By thy side ( for a treat)
For moments few
Make me sit
On the meadows (drenched by dew),
The night has got blown away
By the waves, as arrives the day;

Thou the Boatman,
If my home is not far away
If the tune of homecoming
Holds over me the sway,
With the arrival of the morn,
Just that music Thou play
Which upholds the song
Of the road at that root of the tree
( as my home do I see
Arriving at that step of door)

Thou the Boatman
If Thou hath reached the shore
Leave thy oar
And take my hands instead.

( *note: it is a transliteration of a poem/ song of Rabindranath Tagore, number 66, as can be found in page 429, volume two, Collected Works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, Birth Centenary edition)
Where does this path go,
Who that does really know,
To the foot of which hill,
To which sea coast
To which wish implausible
Who does that really know;

Who travels to and fro
Through this road , who goes
Who does that know,
How are His songs,
What smile doth He carry for long,
For which quest does he go
Who that does really know.

{* note: it is a transliteration of a poem of Rabindranath Tagore, as can be found in collected works, birth centenary edition, volume four, page 123, included in ‘ পূজা ‘ ( worship) section.}
Breaking the key to my home, who wilt take me
O friend mine!
Without seeing thou, canst live life so lone;

Perhaps the night has ended
Perhaps the sun has sent rays,
Thy soft pinkish morning’s glow
On the sky blue how doth show-
There can see the path ahead,
Wilt not thy chariot reach my door?

All those stars of the sky
How stare momentless
As they beside the night
and dawn’s path take rest,
Seeing thou they wilt leaving all
Into the luminous sea take a fall;

All those pilgrims of the morn
Perhaps they have come like birds-
Singing songs of mirth, in flocks,
Perhaps the flower has bloomed,
Perhaps the music has arisen
In thy lyre of the sky ( of this season).

( * Note: it is a transliteration of a song of Rabindranath Tagore, as can be found in collected works, birth centenary edition, page 22, volume four.)
There the Palm Tree stands on leg one,
Surpassing every tree,
Peeping to the Sky of Thee,
Having the wish, piercing the clouds dark, up there,
Thinking where from wilt she get the free air,

So She just over her head
Her wishes hath She bred,
Thinking all those Dreams of her, near the sky,
Can,at least away,from Home,someway, fly;

Her leaves how tremble all day long,
How her dreams, fly, to where(the Sky) they belong,
As if, evading those Stars, wilt they go, lone,
Catching the air, to where Her dreams the Palm hath sown,

But whence, the breeze ceases, true,
And the murmur stops too,
Those Dreams of Her, doth return,
To the Motherly Earth of her,
Loving more her deep, loving more , the Mother.

(*Note: based on a poem written for children by Rabindranath Tagore, )
Can’t remember mother mine;
Only whilst playing
All of a sudden unnecessarily
A tune rings in my ears,
Then thoughts of mother mine
With my games intertwine;
She probably used to sing
Rocking the cradle-
She had gone away
But left the song subtle;

Can’t remember mother mine;
Only when in morns of ashwin
Carried by the dew drenched breeze
Comes the fragrance of sheuli,
Then don’t know why mother mine
Comes to my mind;
Probably she used to bring
Blossoms such in basket-
So the smell of puja
Comes to me as smell of mother ;

Can’t remember mother mine;
Only while sitting at one corner of bedroom
Try to look out through the window
Towards the sky azure,
Then get the feel of mother mine
Staring at me simply
Like the way she
used to look at me
Many many years ago
Holding me in her arms-
She had left that stare
All over the sky.

(Transliteration of a poem by Tagore)

Across the world in tune generous
Song of mirth soars
When will that song in
Depth of heart ring ,
Only the Lord knows,

The air, water, sky and the light
When will love them the best,
They will take seat on heart allright,
Wearing varied colored dress;

When will open eyes
To fill the mind glad
Will take path thine,
Leaving none sad,

That You art there
When in life that will sing,
Thy name will in every work
Only happiness bring.

(* a transliteration of song number fifteen, Gitanjali, )
Who plays the flute in me?
Who fills me with,
mirth and melancholy?
Why the tune of flowers on bloom,
fills my soul’s little room?
Why does the breeze flow,
in such a way, so much perfumed?
Why is this abrupt rise,
Of a desire in my eyes?
Why my words do take the form,
Of a curious fiery oath?
Why is there a flood of scriptures,
In my heart, breaking forth?
Why is there such a dare
Of words long confined, to come out bare?

(Note: it is a transliteration of poem, from Collected works of Rabindranath Tagore, Birth centenary edition, vol.4,pg 312)
Which tune rings in me,I know, knows my soul,
Which keeps me for days awake,
From whom what I get as deliverance,
Why I stare at the path of the sky,
Why on door mine morn leaves a dye,
Why evening sings a wooded dense song,
How Thy flute keeps me entombed,
Keeping me from all banal works, torn,
I know, knows my Soul.

(Note: it is a transliteration of a short poem,from collected works of Rabindranath Tagore, vol, 4, pg 301, Birth centenary edition, )

There canst be any end to your gift,veritable,
The blood which flows down my veins, eternal, a fable,
You hath given me the gold of Sun, the dazzle of stars,the silver of Moon,
Making my life as blessed as your never ending boon.

(Note: it is a transliteration of a short poem by Rabindranath Tagore, titled ‘Matribondona’, )