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叶盘集

[印度] 泰戈尔

杯形花
赠给我的一种花 叶子是草绿色 紫花似精巧的盈光杯。
我询问花名 得不到答覆。
它是容涵无名星星等无量数未知的宇宙家家族的成员。
我在幽秘的私人知识库内 为它起名为”杯形花”。
应邀在花园就座的还有天竺牡丹 晚樱花 金盏草。
它享有不被考证 围观的自由 未戴上种姓的枷锁 是脱离社会的游方僧。
"杯形花”眼看着凋谢了 风儿不曾把凋谢的声音送进耳朵。
分子般密集的瞬息 组成它的星相 它胸中的蜜凝成微粒。
短暂的时光里有它完整的旅程 它单一的意象中现映太阳舒张火焰的花瓣的历史。
司节令的神明用极细的笔触 在纤小的叶片的一角记述它的身世。
与此同时揭示宏伟的历程 目光却不从一页移向另一页。世纪的流水 像一个拖长的音节之波。
汪洋中沉浮一座座丘岗。大海沙漠发生沧桑变化 岁月的长河中 创造的冲突锤炼这小花的初始的信念。
亿万年来走在盛开 凋残的路上 ”杯形花”古朴的信念 变得新颖 鲜活 生动 它最终的形象尚未显露。
它无形的信念 不用线条勾画的肖像 存在于哪种不可目睹的冥想之中?看不见的情景 富于无穷想象 融和了我 也记录了一切人的过去和将来的历史。

心的绿叶
心的无数无形的绿叶 千年万代一簇簇在我的周围舒展。
我隐附于林木 它们是渴饮阳光的执着的化缘僧 每日从青天舀来光的甘汁 把贮存的看不见的不燃的火焰 注入生命最深的骨髓;从繁花 从百鸟歌唱 从情人的摩挲 从深爱的承诺 从噙泪献身的急切 提炼淳香的美的结晶。
被遗忘的或被铭记的美质的众多形态 在我的条条血管里留下"不朽"的真味。
各种冲突促发的苦乐的暴风 摇撼散发我情愫的叶片 加添密集的喜颤 带来羞辱的喝斥 忐忑不安的窘迫 污染的苦恼和承受生活重压的抗议。
是非对抗的奇特的运动 澎湃了心灵的情趣的波澜 激情把一切贪婪的意念 送往奉献的祭殿。
这千古可感而不可见的绿叶的絮语 使我清醒的痴梦幻灭 在苍鹰盘旋的天边那杳无人烟 蜜蜂嗡鸣的正午的闲暇里 在泪花晶莹 握手并坐的恋人无言的缠绵上 落下它们绿荫的同情 它们轻拂着卧眠床榻的情女起伏的柔胸上的纱丽边缘。

白开元译
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A Moments Indulgence

[印度] 泰戈尔

I ask for a moment's indulgence to sit by thy side. The works
that I have in hand I will finish afterwards.

Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor respite,
and my work becomes an endless toil in a shoreless sea of toil.

Today the summer has come at my window with its sighs and murmurs; and
the bees are plying their minstrelsy at the court of the flowering grove.

Now it is time to sit quite, face to face with thee, and to sing
dedication of life in this silent and overflowing leisure.
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Baby's World

[印度] 泰戈尔

I wish I could take a quiet corner in the heart of my baby's very
own world.
I know it has stars that talk to him, and a sky that stoops
down to his face to amuse him with its silly clouds and rainbows.
Those who make believe to be dumb, and look as if they never
could move, come creeping to his window with their stories and with
trays crowded with bright toys.
I wish I could travel by the road that crosses baby's mind,
and out beyond all bounds;
Where messengers run errands for no cause between the kingdoms
of kings of no history;
Where Reason makes kites of her laws and flies them, the Truth
sets Fact free from its fetters.
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Endless Time

[印度] 泰戈尔

Time is endless in thy hands, my lord.
There is none to count thy minutes.

Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers.
Thou knowest how to wait.

Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.

We have no time to lose,
and having no time we must scramble for a chance.
We are too poor to be late.

And thus it is that time goes by
while I give it to every querulous man who claims it,
and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.

At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut;
but I find that yet there is time.

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Closed Path

[印度] 泰戈尔

I thought that my voyage had come to its end
at the last limit of my power,---that the path before me was closed,
that provisions were exhausted
and the time come to take shelter in a silent obscurity.

But I find that thy will knows no end in me.
And when old words die out on the tongue,
new melodies break forth from the heart;
and where the old tracks are lost,
new country is revealed with its wonders.
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Face To Face

[印度] 泰戈尔

Day after day, O lord of my life,
shall I stand before thee face to face.
With folded hands, O lord of all worlds,
shall I stand before thee face to face.

Under thy great sky in solitude and silence,
with humble heart shall I stand before thee face to face.

In this laborious world of thine, tumultuous with toil
and with struggle, among hurrying crowds
shall I stand before thee face to face.

And when my work shall be done in this world,
O King of kings, alone and speechless
shall I stand before thee face to face.

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Flower

[印度] 泰戈尔

Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it
droop and drop into the dust.

I may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch of
pain from thy hand and pluck it. I fear lest the day end before I am
aware, and the time of offering go by.

Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this flower
in thy service and pluck it while there is time.
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Chain Of Pearls

[印度] 泰戈尔

Mother, I shall weave a chain of pearls for thy neck
with my tears of sorrow.

The stars have wrought their anklets of light to deck thy feet,
but mine will hang upon thy breast.

Wealth and fame come from thee
and it is for thee to give or to withhold them.
But this my sorrow is absolutely mine own,
and when I bring it to thee as my offering
thou rewardest me with thy grace.
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