I 1 You rush forward without a trace, eternal wandering thoughts, where there is your invisible impact, there will be sparkling waves in the stagnant water-like space. Is your heart longing for the lover who calls out to you in immeasurable loneliness? Your tangled braids are scattered and fluttered into stormy confusion; fire beads are rolling on your way, like sparks falling from a broken necklace. Is this because you are in a hurry and walk in a hurry? Thy swift steps kiss sweetly the dust of the world, and sweep away the rot; thy dancing limbs are the center of the storm, and shake down the rain of death upon life, and renew all life. .

If you pause for a moment in sudden weariness, the world will rumble into a ball, roll into an obstacle, and stop your progress; then, even the smallest mote, with unbearable dullness, will break the limitless sky . Bracelets of light on your invisible feet, and the rattling rhythm animates my thoughts. They echo in the beating of my heart, and the hymns of the ancient sea stir in my blood. I hear the thunderous tides rushing, rushing my life from world to world, from one form to another; My body is floating around. The waves are rolling high, the wind is howling, this flat boat dances in the wind and waves as it wishes, my heart!

Abandon your hoarded treasure on the shore, raise your sails, and sail across the unfathomable darkness to the infinite light. 3 As the evening grew darker, I asked her, "Which strange land have I come to?" She just lowered her eyes; when she left, the overflowing water in her jar gurgled. On the embankment, the trees are faintly visible, and the land seems to belong to the past. The water was silent, the bamboo grove was motionless and melancholy, and in the alley came the sound of a bracelet hitting the water jar, tinkling. Stop paddling and tie your boat to this tree, for I love the view of this land.

The evening star sinks over the cupola of the church; the pale marble steps of the quay stand against the dark water. The night traveler sighs, because the light from the hidden window, through the densely woven woods and shrubs along the road, is torn into broken spots of light and melts into the night; the bracelet still hits the water jar, The walking back is still rustling in the alleys full of fallen leaves. As the night wore on, the towers of the palace loomed like ghosts; the town groaned wearily. Stop paddling and tie the boat to a tree. Let me rest in this strange land, lying dimly under the starry sky, where the sound of a bracelet hitting a water jar trembles in the night, tinkling.

5 Oh, I long to cherish a secret, As a summer cloud wraps the undropped rain--a secret wrapped in silence, With which I can travel across the seas. Oh, I long to be in the woods sleeping in the sun, where the brook murmurs, and someone hears my whisper. The silence tonight seems to be expecting the sound of footsteps; but you ask me why I am crying. I can't explain it to you because it's still a mystery to me. 7 To you I am like night, little flower. All I can give you is the peace and sleepless silence hidden in the night. When you open your eyes in the morning, I will leave you in a world of buzzing bees and chirping birds.

My last gift to you will be a teardrop from the depths of your youth that will sweeten your smile; When the jubilation of the day is cruel, it will melt into mist and hide your beauty. 9 Had I happened to be living in the imperial city of Ujjain when Kalidasa was an imperial poet, I might have met some Marwa girl.Her musical name will haunt my mind; she may cast a hasty glance at me through the slant of her eyelids, and let the frangipani wrap her veil and find an excuse to linger at my side. Such things happened in the past, and now scholars argue with each other, for those hide-and-seek days.

I will not dwell sadly on these lost traces of the years; but, I lament over and over again, the Malva girls have gone with the years. I don't know, to which heaven did they carry those days that resonated with the poet's piccolo with flower baskets? This morning, a feeling of separation from them because I was born too late to meet them made me worry and frown. Yet the flowers of April are the flowers that once adorned their hair; the south wind that whispers on today's roses is the same that once blew their veils. Indeed, there is no lack of joy this spring, though Kalidasa no longer sings; and I know that if he can see me from the poet's temple, he has reason to be jealous. ① Kalidasa: Ancient Indian playwright and poet.He was born in the Ji Dynasty in the fourth to fifth centuries.The circulated poems include "The Genealogy of Ragu", "The Birth of Kumara", "The Cloud Messenger" and the collection of short songs "The Ring of Seasons"; the dramas include "Uli Poshi" and "Shagongdara".He is one of the representative writers of Sanskrit classical literature.

10 Please don't miss her heart, my heart, let it stay in the dark. What if only her figure was beautiful, and her face was smiling?Let me receive, without hesitation, the simple meaning of the gaze of her eyes, and be happy. Her soft arms wrap around me, and I don't care if it's an illusory snare, because the snare itself is gorgeous and precious, and the deception can be laughed off and forgotten. Please don't be attached to her heart, my heart; if the music is true and the words are unbelievable, then you should be satisfied; please appreciate the beauty of her dance, as you admire a shimmering tree. Charming lily dancing on the water, whatever lies beneath.