1 If you bid me, I will bring basket after basket of my fruits to your garden, though some have fallen and some are not yet ripe. Because of the burden of abundant fruits this season, the sad flute of the shepherd boy can be heard from time to time under the thick shade. If you bid me, I'll go up the river and set sail. The March wind is restless and stirs up the languid waves with murmurs. The orchard is full of fruit, and in this weary evening comes your sun-set call from your house by the shore. 2 My young life was like a flower, which, when the genial spring breeze comes to beg at her door, plucks one or two from its abundance, without ever feeling a loss.

Now that youth is gone, my life is like a fruit with nothing left to share, only waiting to give myself completely, with its heavy sweetness. ... 4 I awoke to find his letter coming with the dawn. I don't know what was written in the letter because I couldn't read it. I don't want to disturb the sage who is studying, why bother him, who knows if he can understand the contents of the letter. Let me lift the letter to my forehead and stick it to my heart. When the night is dead and the stars are shining, I will spread the letter on my lap and wait in silence. The rustling leaves will read it for me; the gurgling stream will sing it for me; the seven wise stars will sing it for me from the sky.

I cannot find all that I seek, I cannot comprehend all that I know; but this unread letter eases my burden, and turns my thoughts into song. 5 When I don't understand the meaning of your signal, a pinch of dust can cover it up. Now that I'm smarter than I was before, I see through the barriers of the past to see what it's all about. It is painted on the petals of flowers; the sea-foam makes it shimmer; the mountains hold it to their peaks. I have turned my face away from you, and thus misinterpreted your letter without knowing its meaning. 6 Where the road is paved, I lost my way.

In the boundless sea, in the blue sky, there is no trace of the road. The road is covered, covered by the wings of birds, the brilliant starlight, and the changing flowers of the seasons. I ask my heart: Can the blood comprehend the invisible path? 7 Alas, I cannot stay in this room, this home is no longer mine, for the eternal stranger walks down the road and calls to me. The sound of his footsteps pounding on my chest pained me. The wind had picked up, and the sea was moaning. I cast aside all cares and doubts to chase the homeless waves, for strangers come along the road and call to me.

8 Get ready to go, my heart!Let those who must procrastinate linger. For your name is already called in the morning sky. Don't wait any longer! The bud longs for night and dew, but the flower in full bloom longs for freedom in the sun. Break through your skin, my heart, and move on! 9 Whenever I linger among my hoarded wealth, I feel like a moth gnawing at the fruit of my own growth in the dark. I cast aside this rotten prison. I don't want to always be attached to the rotten stillness, I want to find the eternal youth; I have to completely abandon everything that has nothing to do with my life, and everything that is not as light as my laughter.

I gallop through time, O my heart, in your chariot the troubadour dances. 10 You took my hand, pulled me to your side, let me sit on a high stool in front of everyone, until I became shy, afraid to move, unable to move freely; Every time I take a step, I will have a lot of worries, for fear of stepping on the thorns of everyone's indifference. I am free at last! The blow has come, the drum of reproach has sounded, and I fall with the stool in the dust. But my way is opened before me. My wings are full of longing for the blue sky. I'm going to join the shooting stars of midnight rushing into the deep shadows.

I am driven like a cloud by the tempests of summer, throwing down my golden crown, and fastening my thunder to the chains of lightning like a sword. In desperate joy I run On the dusty lanes of the despised Toward your last welcome. When the baby left the mother's womb, it found the mother. When I was away from you, when I was thrown out of your house, I was free to see your face. 11 It adorns me only to mock me, this necklace of jewels of mine. It was worn around my neck, causing pain in the skin and flesh, and whenever I struggled to tear it off, it strangled me tightly. It stuck in my throat, it smothered my singing.

My Lord, if I could lay it into your hands, I would be saved. Take it from me, and give me a garland of flowers, and tie me around your side, for I am ashamed to stand before you with such a necklace of gems. 12 The clear Yamuna River rushes swiftly deep below, and the high embankment frowns above. Surrounded by mountains with dense forests, mountain torrents have left scars in them. The Sikh master Govinda was sitting on the rock, reading the scriptures. At this time, Raghunath, who was proud of his wealth, came over, bowed to him, and said, "I brought you a small gift. It’s not a respect, please show me your face.”

After finishing speaking, he took out a pair of gold bracelets inlaid with expensive gemstones and handed them to the master. The master picked up one, put it on his finger and twirled it quickly, and the gemstone emitted flashes of light. Suddenly, the bracelet slipped from his hand, rolled down the embankment, and fell into the water. "Ah!" Raghunath screamed and jumped into the river. The master recited the scriptures intently, and the river water hid what he had obtained, and then galloped away into the distance. In the twilight, the drenched Raghunath returned to the master, exhausted.

He said out of breath, "If you tell me where you left the bracelet, I can still get it back." The master picked up a bracelet he had kept, threw it into the water with a wave, and said, "It just fell there." 13 Actions are made to meet you at all times. my traveling companion! It is to sing with your footsteps on the ground. Those struck by your breath do not take refuge in the banks of the river to escape. He will recklessly set sail against the wind and ride the waves on rough waters. You welcome those who open their doors and step forward. He does not pause to count his gains, nor to lament his losses; his heart beats the marching drum, For this is marching with you, my traveling companion!

14 In this world, my best destiny will be in your hands--this is your promise. Therefore, your light shines in my tears. I am afraid that others will lead me the way, lest I miss you, because you are waiting at the corner of the road, intending to be my guide. I willfully go my own way, until my folly leads you to my door. For you have promised me that the best of my lot in this world will be in your hands. 15 My Lord, your words are concise and clear, but their words about you are not like that. I understand the voice of your stars, I understand the silence of your trees. I know that my heart will bloom like a flower; I know that my life has been enriched in the spring. Your singing is like a bird in the cold and snowy field, looking forward to flying to my heart to build a nest in the warm April, and I am infatuatedly waiting for this happy season.