Chapter 18 Gitanjali
(India) by Tagore
Preface to the translator
This is a collection of poems by the great Indian poet Robind Rabind Rabindranath Tagore.It means "offering poetry" in Hindi.
Tagore (1861-1941) is the most admired and beloved poet of the Indian people.He participated in and led the Renaissance movement in India. He excluded the chaotic and suffocated Western culture that came from England, which contained colonial enslavement to some extent, and studied India's own long-standing and excellent culture in depth.He went to the villages, heard myths, songs and folk tales from farmers, village women, bricklayers and masons, and then wrote the simplest and most beautiful prose and poetry in Bengali script.
The 103 poems in this collection of poems were collected from his three collections of poems - "Navidya" (dedication), "Kiya" when he was fifty years old (1911). (Crossing the River) and (Dedicating Poems)—these poems, as well as those scattered in Indian newspapers and magazines since 1908, have been translated into English by myself.
From these one hundred and three poems, we can deeply understand how this great Indian poet loves his country with a long and excellent culture, the working people who love peace and democracy in this country, and how much he loves this country. The majestic and beautiful mountains and rivers of the country.From the lines in these poems, we see Indian women with pots on top of lamps and fluttering scarves; Indian workers and farmers sweating hard on the roads in the fields; Indian musicians playing the harp and flute at the ferry in the garden; Laughing Indian children, and thunderstorms in the tropics, trees and flowers... We seem to be able to hear the dense raindrops and smell the rich fragrance of flowers.
After I have been to India, I feel more deeply that Tagore belongs to the Indian people, and the life of the Indian people is the source of his creation.He lives like a fish in water among the people who love rhythm and poetry. He uses the people's own vivid and simple language to refine into the freshest and most fluent poetry to sing about the sorrow and joy, frustration and hope, doubt and belief of the vast majority of Indian people.Therefore, his poems are "recited at home and abroad" in India, and he will always live in the mouths of the people.
This collection of poems, translated from the English translation, can neither imitate the musical and rhythmic folk songs of the Bengali original, nor can it convey the warm and beautiful poetry of the English translation. Here I would like to thank the Ms. Shi Suzhen, who proofread the original Bengali text for me in my busy schedule, without her, I would not have the guts to translate.March 13, 1955
You have made me immortal, and it was your joy to do so.This flimsy cup, you keep emptying it and filling it with new life.
This little flute of a reed, which you carry over hills and valleys, blows from its pipe a music everlasting.
At the immortal touch of your hands my little heart, lost in bliss, utters inexpressible tones.
Thy infinite gifts are poured into my small hands only.Times have passed, and you are still pouring out, and yet there is room in my hand to be filled.
When you command me to sing, my heart seems to burst with pride; I look up in your face, and tears well up in my eyes.
All that is harsh and discordant in my life melts into one sweet harmony --and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its flight across the sea.
I know you like my singing.I know that only because I am a singer can I come before you.
With the far-reaching wing-tips of my song I have touched your feet which I never dared to aspire to.
Drunk in song, I forget myself, and I call you my friend when you are my master.
I do not know how you sing, my lord!I am always listening in amazement.
The radiance of your music lights up the world.The breath of your music penetrates the heavens.
The holy fountain of your music rushes onwards through all the rocks that stand in the way.
My heart longs to sing with you, but struggles to make a sound.I want to speak, but words don't make songs, I can't cry out.Oh, you have made my heart a captive in the net of your music, my lord!
Life of my life, I will keep my body pure forever, knowing that the touch of your life touches my limbs.
I will forever banish hypocrisy from my thoughts, for I know that you are the truth that kindles the fire of reason within me.
I will take all the ugliness out of my heart and make my love blossom, for I know you have set a seat deep in the palace of my heart.
I will try to reflect you in my actions, because I know it is your power that gives me strength to act.
Please allow me to relax for a while and come sit by your side.I'm going to wait a while to finish the work at hand.
Without your presence my heart would know no rest nor rest, and my work became an endless toil in a boundless sea of toil.
Today, the heat comes to my window, whispering; the bees play and sing in the court of flowers and trees.
This is the time to sit still, facing you, and sing the song of life in the silence and the boundless leisure.
Pick this flower, take it, don't delay!I'm afraid it will wither and fall into the dust.
It may not be worthy of your corolla, but please pluck it, and honor it with the pain of plucking it with your hands.I am afraid that before I am alert, the daylight will be gone, and the time for offerings will be over.
Although its color is not deep and its fragrance is very light, please use this flower for worship.While there is still time, just pick a discount.
My song undresses her.She no longer has the luxury of clothing.Ornaments will be the blemish of our unity; they will stand between us, and their tinkling will drown out your whisper.
My poet's vanity dies of shame in your radiance.Oh, saint of poetry, I have bowed down at your feet.Just let my life be simple and straight like a flute of reed, let you play the music.
The child in prince's robes and jeweled necklaces has lost all joy in play; his raiment stumbles his steps.
For fear of being torn and stained, he dared not go into the world, or even move.
It is no good, mother, if your splendid restraints separate man from the healthy dust of the earth, and deprive him of the right to enter into the grand assembly of daily life.
Oh, fool, want to carry yourself on your shoulders!O beggar, come to thy own door and beg!
Cast your burden into hands that can bear it all, and never look back with regret.
The breath of your desire will instantly blow out any lamp it touches.It is unholy - accept no gifts from its unclean hands.Receive only what divine love gives.
This is your footstool, where you rest among the poorest, the cheapest, and the most homeless.
I want to bow to you, and my salute cannot reach the depths of your resting place—among the poorest, meanest, and homeless.
You wear shabby clothes and walk among the poorest, most humble and most homeless people. Pride can never approach this place.
My heart will never find that place in the company of the friendless among the poorest, meanest, and homeless.
Leave the praise and counting beads aside!To whom do you worship in the dark and lonely corner of the temple with the doors and windows closed?Open your eyes and see, God is not in front of you!
He is with the farmer who hoes the dry ground, and the road-maker who hammers the stone.He was with them in the sun and in the rain, and his robe was covered with dust.Take off your holy robes, and even go down into the dirt like him!
Detached?Where can one find detachment?Our Lord has gladly bound the chains of creation; he and we are all forever bound together.
Come out of meditation and throw away the fragrant flowers offered!So what if your clothes get stained?Go meet him, stand with him in labor and sweat.
I travel a lot and the journey is long.
As soon as day broke, I set off in my car, across the vast world, leaving ruts on many planets.
The place closest to you is the furthest away.The easiest pitches require the toughest practice.
The traveler knocks at every stranger's door before he can reach his own; one has to wander around outside before reaching the deepest inner sanctum.My eyes looked around the empty space, and finally I closed my eyes and said, "So here you are!"
This question and call "Oh, where are you?" melted into the fountain of tears, and together with the torrent of your promised answer "I am here!", it flooded the whole world.
The song I want to sing has not been sung until today.
I always adjust the strings on my instrument every day.
The time has not come, the lyrics have not been filled out, only the pain of wish is in my heart.
The stamens are not open yet, only the wind sighs past.
I have not seen his face, nor heard his voice; I only heard his soft footsteps, passing by the road in front of my house.
A long day is spent laying out a seat for him on the ground; but the lamp is not lit, and I cannot invite him in.
I live in the hope of meeting him, but the day of that meeting has not yet come.
My desires are many, and my weeping is pitiful, but you always save me by your firm refusal; this strong mercy has been tightly woven into my life.
You make me more worthy every day of your automatic, simple and great gifts—this sky and light, this body and life and mind—and save me from the perils of lust.
Sometimes I procrastinate slackly, sometimes I hurriedly and vigilantly seek my way; but you have the heart to hide.
Your constant rejection of me rescued me from the danger of weak and faltering desires, and made me more and more worthy of your full acceptance every day.
I come to sing for you.In your halls I sit in the corner.
In your world I have nothing to do; my useless life is nothing but song without purpose.
When the bells of silent prayer ring at midnight in your dark temple, command me, my lord, to stand before you and sing.
When the golden harps are tuned in the morning light, favor me and order me to come to you.
I have received invitations to this world festival and my life has been blessed.My eyes saw the beautiful scene, and my ears heard the intoxicating music.
In this banquet, my task was to play music, and I did my best.
Now, I ask: Has that time finally come?May I go in and behold your countenance and offer my silent offering?
I only wait for love, to deliver me at last into his hands.This is the reason for my delay and I am responsible for the delay.
They want to bind me tightly with laws and regulations, but I always avoid them, because I only wait for love to finally deliver me into his hands.
People scold me for not paying attention to people; and I know their scolding is justified.
The marketplace is over, and the work of the busy man is done.Those who told me not to go back with anger.I only wait for love, to deliver me at last into his hands.
The clouds and haze piled up, and the darkness deepened.Oh love, why did you leave me waiting outside the door alone?
At noon, when the work is at its peak, I am with you all; but in this dark and lonely day, I only look to you.
If you don't allow me to meet, if you completely abandon me, I really don't know how I will spend this long rainy day.
I can't stop staring at the distant cloudy sky, my heart wanders and laments with the restless wind.
If you don't speak, I will endure and fill my heart with your silence.
I will wait silently, like a sleepless night in the starlight, bowing my head patiently.
The morning will surely come, and the darkness will fade away, and your voice will pierce the sky, casting bets from golden springs.
Then your words shall take wing and sound in every nest of mine; your music shall blossom in the blossoms of my jungle.
On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind and soul wandered unconsciously.My flower basket was empty, and I ignored the flowers.
From time to time a melancholy assailed me.I woke up from my dream and felt a strange fragrance in the south wind.
This confused warmth makes my heart ache, and I feel like it is the breath of summer longing, seeking fulfillment.
I didn't know at the time that it was so close to me, and it was mine, that this perfect warmth was still open in the depths of my own heart.
I must get out of my boat and go.The days are dragging away on the shore--I am miserable!
Say goodbye to the flowers in spring.Now it's all over the place, but I'm waiting and lingering.
The sound of the tide is getting louder, and the yellow leaves are falling on the shady beach on the river bank.
What emptiness you gaze into!Don't you feel that there is a burst of surprise floating from the sky together with the distant singing from the other side?
In the thick shadow of the July rain, you walk with secret steps, as light as night, avoiding all watchmen.
Today, I close my eyes early in the morning, ignoring the howling east wind, and a thick veil covers the blue sky that is always awake.
The forest and fields live in the sound of singing, and every house closes its doors.In this lonely street, you are a lonely pedestrian.O my only friend, my darling, my door is open--walk not dreaming.
Are you still out on a love trip on this stormy night, my friend?
The sky wailed like a disappointed man.
I can't sleep tonight.I keep opening the door and looking into the darkness, my friend!
I can't see anything.I don't know which way you're going!
Did you grope your way to me, my friend, from the black bank of the river, from the far edge of the sad woods, through the dark winding paths?
If the day is past and the birds do not sing, and if the wind grows weary, then cover me with a thick veil of darkness, as you wrap the earth in the quilt of sleep at dusk, and gently Water lily petals close up.
The traveler has not reached his journey, his food bag is empty, his clothes are torn and stained, and he is exhausted. You relieve his shyness and poverty, and make his life awaken like a flower under the benevolent night.
In this sleepy night, let me submissively surrender myself to sleep and entrust my trust to you.
Let me not force my languid spirits to prepare a perfunctory service to you.
It is you who draw the night to cover the tired eyes of the day, and renew the eyes in the fresh joy of waking up.
He came and sat beside me, and I didn't wake up.What a dreadful sleep, alas, wretched me!
He came in the still night; with his harp in his hand, my dream soul resonated with his music.
Alas, why is every night wasted like this?Heh, his breath touches my sleep, why can't I always see his face?
Light, where is the light?Kindle it with a burning fire of longing!
Here is the lamp, but there is no flame--is this your fate?my heart!You might as well be dead!
Sorrow knocks at your door, and she sends word that your Lord is awake, and bids you run to love's rendezvous in the darkness of night.
Clouds and mist covered the sky, and the rain kept falling.I don't know what's stirring inside of me - I don't understand its meaning.
A flash of lightning threw a deeper darkness in my sight.My heart gropes its way for the music that calls to my night.
Light, where is the light?Kindle it with a burning fire of longing!Thunder was ringing, and the wind howled through the sky.The night is as black as a black rock.Don't let time pass in the dark.Use your life to light the lamp of love.
The net is tough, but when I want to tear it, my heart hurts.
All I want is to be free, and I'm ashamed to want to be free.
I know that the priceless treasure is in you, and you are my best friend, but I can't bear to clear my house full of mundane things.
I wear the garment of dust and death; I hate it, but hold it lovingly.
My debts are great, my failures great, my disgrace secret and deep; yet when I come to ask for blessings, I tremble lest my petition be granted.
The one whom I have imprisoned under my name weeps in prison.I keep building the wall every day; when the wall reaches the sky, my true self is blocked by the shadow of the high wall.
I'm proud of this high wall, and I've sanded it down, lest there be a gap in the name: I've worked hard, and I can't see who I am.
I went to the tryst alone.Who is following me in the darkness?
I moved away from him, but I couldn't escape.
He swaggers and makes the ground dusty; every word I utter is mingled with his cry.
He is my ego, my Lord, and he has no shame; but I am ashamed to come with him to your door.
"Prisoner, tell me, who tied you up?"
"It is my lord," said the prisoner, "I thought my riches and power surpassed all men in the world, and I gathered my king's money in my treasury. In bed, I woke up and found that I was a prisoner in my own treasure house."
"Prisoner, tell me, who made this strong chain?"
"It is I," said the prisoner, "that I have forged with my own heart. I thought that my invincible power would conquer the world and give me unhindered freedom. I forged this chain day and night with fiery hammers. Wait until the work Finished, the iron chain is firm and perfect, and I found that this iron chain bound me." 32 Those who love me in the world try their best to hold me.Your love is not like that, your love is much greater than theirs, you set me free.
They never dared to leave me lest I forget them.But you, the days go by and you haven't shown up yet.
If I do not call you in prayer, if I do not keep you in my heart, your love for me still waits for my love.
During the day, they came to my house and said, "We only occupy the smallest room."
They said, "We will help you to worship your God, and humbly receive only our share of grace." And they sat down quietly and meekly in the corner of the room.
But in the night I found them storming my sanctuary violently, greedily taking the sacrifices from the altar.
As long as I'm alive, I'll call you my everything.
As long as I am faithful, I can feel you around me.I will come to ask you about anything, and I will dedicate my love to you at any time.
As long as I live, I will never hide you.
Thy will is done in my life as long as there remain a little chain that binds me to your will - and that chain is your love.
Where the heart is fearless and the head is lifted high; where knowledge is free; where the world is not yet divided into fragments by the walls of narrow homes; where words are spoken from the depths of truth ; where unremitting efforts reach out to "perfection"; where the clear spring of reason does not sink in the snow-covered desert; Into the heaven of freedom, my father, let my country wake up.
This is my prayer to you, my Lord - to eradicate, eradicate the root of my poverty.
Give me strength to bear joy and sorrow with ease.
Give me the strength to make my love bear fruit in service.
Give me strength so that I will never forsake the poor, nor bow the knee to tyranny.
Give me the strength to lift my mind above the trivialities of the day.
Give me strength again to submit my strength lovingly to the command of your will.
I thought my energies were exhausted, my journey was over--the road was gone, my stores were exhausted, and the time had come for me to retire into the silence.
But I find that your will has no end in me.As soon as the old language dies on the tip of the tongue, new music bursts from the heart; the old track is lost, and the new field unfolds wonderfully in front of us.
I need you and only you - makes my heart keep repeating the words.All the desires that tempt me day and night are utterly false and empty.
Just as the night hides in the obscurity that begs for the light, there is also a voice in the depths of my subconscious - I need you and only you.
Just as the storm strikes at peace with all its might and seeks to end in peace, so my rebellion strikes at your love, and its cry is still - I need you and only you.
When my heart is hard and anxious, please shower me with kindness.
When life loses grace, please give me a song of joy.
When the turbulent work is making noise around me and isolating me from the outside world, my serene Lord, please come with your peace and rest.
When my heart like a beggar is squatting in the corner of the house, my king, please break in with the majesty of a king.
When lust blinds my mind with temptation and dust, O Holy One, you are awake, please come with your thunder and lightning.
It's been days without rain on my parched heart, my God.The horizon was terribly bare--not a cloud to cover it, not a ray of coolness from the distant rain.
If you will, send down the storm of your black fury, and strike the heavens with lightning.
But recall, my lord, recall this pervasive silent heat, heavy, sharp, and cruel, burning the heart with terrible despair.
Let the kindness cloud hang down, like the tearful eyes of the mother when the father is angry.
My love, where are you standing behind everyone in the shadow?On the dusty road they push you past and ignore you.In the weary hours, I waited for you with my presents, and the passers-by took my fragrant flowers one by one, and my flower basket was almost empty.
Morning and noon passed.In the twilight, I am tired and hazy.People coming home look at me and smile, filling me with shame.
I sat like a beggar woman, pulled up my skirt to cover my face, and when they asked me what I wanted, I lowered my eyes and said nothing.
Oh, really, how can I tell them I'm waiting for you, and you promised you'd come.How can I be ashamed to say that my dowry is poverty.
Oh, I hold this piece of pride in the recesses of my heart.
I sat on the grass and stared at the sky, dreaming of the sudden display of luxury when you came--the colorful lights, the golden flag flying on the chariot.Under the eyes of everyone on the side of the road, you descended from the car seat and lifted me out of the dust to sit next to you. This shabby beggar, shy and happy, trembled like vines in the summer wind.
But time passed without the sound of your chariot wheels.Many guards of honor passed by amidst the brilliance and noise.Do you just stand silently behind them?
Shall I just weep and wait, tormenting my heart in empty waiting?
In Qingxiao's secret language, we agreed to go boating together.No one in the world knows about our aimless, endless wandering.
On the boundless ocean, in your listening smile, my song is in tune, free as the waves of the sea, unbound by words.
Is it not time yet?Do you still have work to do?Look, the twilight has covered the coast, and the seabirds have flown back to their nests in the vastness.
Who knows when the chains will be untied, and the ship will dissolve into the night like the afterglow of the setting sun?
I was not ready to wait for you that day, my king, you entered my heart automatically like a stranger who has never met, and stamped the imprint of eternal life in the many passing hours of my life.
Today I happened to see your signature, and I found them scattered in the dust along with the memories of my forgotten daily sorrows and joys.
Thou shalt not contemptuously from my childhood games in the dust, the footsteps I hear in the playroom are the same as they echo among the stars.
The weather is uncertain, and when the summer solstice rains, it is my happiness to wait and watch by the roadside.
Messengers who brought messages from the unknowable sky greeted me and went on their way.
I am sincerely happy, and the wind that blows has a fragrance.
From morning to night I sit on the floor in front of the door, knowing that when I see you, the happy hour will come suddenly.
At this time, I sang and laughed to myself.At this time, too, the air was filled with the fragrance of promise.
Did you not hear his quiet footsteps?He's coming, coming, going on and on.
Every time, every age, every day and every night, he always comes, comes, keeps coming.
I've sung many songs in many different moods, but in these tunes I always proclaim, "He's coming, coming, coming on and on."
On a fragrant day in April, he came, came, and kept coming from the forest path.
In the dark rainy night in July, he sat on a rumbling cloud chariot, coming, coming, and coming non-stop.
In the midst of melancholy, it is his steps that step on my heart, and the golden touch of his feet makes my joy shine.
I don't know when since long ago, you have been approaching to greet me.
Your sun and stars can never hide you from me.
Many mornings and evenings I have heard your footsteps, and your messengers have come to my heart in secret to call.
I don't know why today my life is totally agitated, a feeling of carnival runs through my heart.
It's like it's time to finish work and I feel your presence in the air.
The night is approaching, when he is empty again.I am afraid that in the morning when I am sleepy, he suddenly comes to my door.Oh, friends, keep the door open for him—do not hinder him.
If the sound of his footsteps doesn't wake me up, please don't wake me up.I don't want the noisy chorus of birds, and the wind to celebrate the morning light, to wake me from my sleep.Let me sleep undisturbed even when my Lord suddenly comes to my door.
Oh, my sleep, precious sleep, just waiting for his touch to dissipate.Oh, my closed eyes, opened only in the light of his smile, when he stood before me like a dream emerging from the blackness of sleep.
Let him appear before my eyes as the first light and image.Let his gaze be the first exultation of my awakened soul.
Let the return of my self be an immediate conversion to Him.
In the quiet sea in the early morning, there are waves of birds singing; the flowers on the roadside are competing for beauty; when we are rushing on the road without paying attention, brilliant golden light is scattered in the gaps in the clouds.
We don't sing or play; we don't go to the village market to trade; we don't speak or smile; we don't linger on the road.As time passed, we also accelerated our pace.
The sun has risen to mid-heaven, and the doves are calling in the shade.Dead leaves fluttered in the hot midday wind.The shepherd boy is dreaming his weary dream under the banyan tree.I lie down by the water's edge and spread my weary limbs on the grass.
My companions laugh at me; they lift their heads and scurry; they neither look back nor rest; they disappear into the distant mist.They passed through many mountains and forests, and passed through strange and distant places.Heroes on the long distance, the glory belongs to you!
Ridicule and reproach tried to make me stand up, but I didn't respond.I willingly sink into the depths of the shame of pleasant feelings - in the vague shadows of pleasure.
The tranquility of the green shade woven by the sun slowly enveloped my heart.I forget the purpose of my travels, and without resistance I surrender my soul to a labyrinth of shadows and songs.
Finally, I opened my eyes from deep sleep, and I saw you standing beside me, and my sleep was bathed in your smile.How I used to be afraid of the distance and difficulty of this road, how hard it is to work hard before you!
Come down from your throne and stand before the door of my cottage.
I was singing solo in the corner, and you heard the singing.Come down and stand in front of my cottage.
There are many famous artists in your hall, and songs are sung all day long.But this simple music for beginners has won your appreciation.A melancholy ditty, fused with the great music of the world.You also brought flowers as a reward, stepped down from the throne, and stayed in front of my cottage.
When I was begging along the gate in the village road, your golden chariot appeared from afar like a gorgeous dream, and I wondered who the King of Kings was!
My hopes rise high, I feel my days of misery are at an end, I stand waiting for your own free giving, for the treasure that is cast in the dust.
The chariot stopped where I stood.You see me and get out of the car with a smile.I feel like my luck has finally struck.Suddenly you stretched out your right hand and said, "What do you have for me?"
Oh, what a royal joke this is, stretching out one's hand to a beggar!Confused, I stood hesitantly, and then slowly took out the smallest kernel of corn from my pocket and offered it to you.
But I was taken aback.When I dumped my sack at night, among the cheap things I begged, I found a grain of gold.I wept bitterly for not giving you my all generously.
Late at night.Our day's work is done.We thought that all the guests for lodging had arrived, and every house in the village had closed their doors.Only a few said that the king was coming.We laughed and said, "No, it's impossible!"
As if there was a knock at the door, we say it is but the wind.We turn off the lights and go to bed.Only a few people said: "This is the messenger!" We laughed and said: "No, it must be the wind!"
In the dead of night came a voice.In the haze, we thought it was thunder in the distance.The walls shake and the ground shakes, and we are troubled in sleep.Just a few people said:
"It's the sound of wheels." We muttered drowsily, "No, it must be thunder!"
It was still dark when the drums sounded.A voice shouted, "Wake up! Don't delay!" We put our hands on our hearts, trembling with fear.Just a few people said:
"Behold, here is the king's banner!" We stood up and cried, "There is no time to lose!"
The king has come - but where are the lights?Where is the wreath?Where is the throne prepared for him?Oh, shame, oh, what a shame!Where is the living room, and where are the furnishings?Several said: "It's no use shouting! Meet him empty-handed, and take him to your spare room!"
Open the door and blow the conch!In the middle of the night the king came to my dark and dreary house.Thunder roared in the air.
Darkness and lightning tremble together.Take out your broken mat and spread it in the yard.Our King came suddenly with the storm in the dreadful night.
I think I should ask you—but I dare not—that garland of roses about your neck.So I waited until morning to find some pieces from your bed while you were gone.I search like a beggar at dawn for a scattered petal or two.
Oh, me, what have I found?What mark of love have you left behind?
It's not flowers, it's not spices, it's not a bottle of perfume.That is your great sword, bright as fire and heavy as thunder.The morning light shone from the window onto the bed.
The morning bird chirped and asked, "Woman, what have you got?" No, it is not flowers, nor spices, nor a bottle of perfume—it is your dreadful sword.
I sat and wondered what kind of gift you have.I have nowhere to hide it.
I'm embarrassed to wear it, I'm so weak, it hurts me when I hold it in my arms.But I will remember this favor, your gift, this painful burden.
From now on in this world I will have no fear, and you will be victorious in all my struggles.You left death with me, and I will crown him with my life.I take your sword to cut my jire, and I shall have no fear in the world.
From now on I will throw away all trivial decorations.Lord of my heart, I no longer wait and cry in a corner, nor am I timid and shy.You have given me your sword to wear.I don't want doll ornaments any more!
Your bracelet is so beautiful, studded with stars, delicately set with jewels of many colors.But your sword is more beautiful in my opinion, its curved flash is like the spread wings of Vishnu's bird, perfectly flat in the red light of the setting sun.
It trembles, like the last reaction of life in a painful stupor when it is hit by the last blow of death; it flaunts, like the last violent flash of the pure flame of the dying world.
Beautiful are thy bracelets, set with jewels like the stars; but thy sword, O Lord of thunder, is so beautifully wrought, that it is dreadful to see and think.
I do not ask of you; I do not speak my name to your ears.I stood silent when you left.I am alone by the well where the shadows of the trees are sloping, and the women have already returned home with brown earthen pots filled with water.They called me and said, "Come with us, it's almost noon." But I lingered languidly, lost in dreamy meditation.
I didn't hear your footsteps when you came.Your eyes look melancholy; your voice is weary when you whisper—"Oh, I am a thirsty traveler."
Startled from my dream, I pour water from my jug into your clasped palm.The leaves rustled overhead; the cuckoos sang in the shadows, and the scent of gum trees wafted from the winding paths.
When you asked my name, I was ashamed and silent.Really, what have I done for you that deserves your remembrance?
But the memory that I was lucky enough to give you water to quench your thirst will stick to my heart warmly.It's getting late, and the birds are singing tired songs.With the neem leaves rustling above my head, I sat and thought and thought.
Wearyness weighs on your heart, and sleepiness is in your eyes.
Have you not heard that the flowers are blooming among the thorn bushes?Wake up, oh, wake up, don't waste the time!
在石径的尽头，在幽静无人的田野里，我的朋友在独坐着。不要欺骗他吧。醒来，呵，醒来吧！
即使正午的骄阳使天空喘息摇颤——即使灼热的沙地展布开它干渴的巾衣——在你心的深处难道没有快乐吗？你的每一个足音，不会使道路的琴弦迸出痛苦的柔音吗？
只因你的快乐是这样地充满了我的心，只因你曾这样地俯就我。呵，你这诸天之主，假如没有我，你还爱谁呢？
你使我做了你这一切财富的共享者。在我心里你的欢乐不住地遨游。在我生命中你的意志永远实现。
因此，你这万王之王曾把自己修饰了来赢取我的心。因此你的爱也消融在你情人的爱里。在那里，你又以我俩完全合一的形象显现。
光明，我的光明，充满世界的光明，吻着眼目的光明，甜沁心腑的光明！
呵，我的宝贝，光明在我生命的一角跳舞；我的宝贝，光明在勾拨我爱的心弦；天开了，大风狂奔，笑声响彻大地。
蝴蝶在光明海上展开翅帆。百合与茉莉在光波的浪花上翻涌。
我的宝贝，光明在每朵云彩上散映成金，它洒下无量的珠宝。
我的宝贝，快乐在树叶间伸展，欢喜无边。天河的堤岸淹没了，欢乐的洪水在四散奔流。
让一切欢乐的歌调都融和在我最后的歌中——那使大地草海欢呼摇动的快乐，那使生和死两个孪生兄弟，在广大的世界上跳舞的快乐，那含泪默坐在盛开的痛苦的红莲上的快乐，那不知所谓，把一切所有抛掷于尘埃中的快乐。
是的，我知道，这只是你的爱，呵，我心爱的人——这在树叶上跳舞的金光，这些驶过天空的闲云，这使我头额清爽的吹过的凉风。
清晨的光辉涌进我的眼睛——这是你传给我心的消息。
你的面孔下俯，你的眼睛下望着我的眼睛，我的心接触到了你的双足。
孩子们在无边的世界的海滨聚会。头上是静止的无垠的天空，不宁的海波奔腾喧闹。在无边的世界的海滨，孩子们欢呼跳跃地聚会着。
他们用沙子盖起房屋，用空贝壳来游戏。他们把枯叶编成小船，微笑着把它们飘浮在深远的海上。孩子在世界的海滨做着游戏。
他们不会凫水，他们也不会撒网。采珠的人潜水寻珠，商人们奔波航行，孩子们收集了石子却又把它们丢弃了。他们不搜求宝藏，他们也不会撒网。
大海涌起了喧笑，海岸闪烁着苍白的微笑。致人死命的波涛，像一个母亲在摇着婴儿的摇篮一样，对孩子们唱着无意义的歌谣。大海在同孩子们游戏，海岸闪烁着苍白的微笑。
孩子们在无边的世界的海滨聚会。风暴在无路的天空中飘游，船舶在无轨的海上破碎，死亡在猖狂，孩子们却在游戏。在无边的世界的海滨，孩子们盛大地聚会着。
这掠过婴儿眼上的睡眠——有谁知道它是从哪里来的吗？是的，有谣传说它住在林荫中，萤火朦胧照着的仙村里，那里挂着两颗甜柔迷人的花蕊。它从那里来吻着婴儿的眼睛。
在婴儿睡梦中唇上闪现的微笑——有谁知道它是从哪里生出来的吗？是的，有谣传说一线新月的微光，触到了消散的秋云的边缘，微笑就在被朝雾洗净的晨梦中，第一次生出来了——这就是那婴儿睡梦中唇上闪现的微笑。
在婴儿的四肢上，花朵般喷发的甜柔清新的生气，有谁知道它是在哪里藏了这么久吗？
是的，当母亲还是一个少女，它就在温柔安静的爱的神秘中，充塞在她的心里了——这就是那婴儿四肢上喷发的甜柔新鲜的生气。
当我送你彩色玩具的时候，我的孩子，我了解为什么云中水上会幻弄出这许多颜色，为什么花朵都用颜色染起——当我送你彩色玩具的时候，我的孩子。
当我唱歌使你跳舞的时候，我彻底地知道为什么树叶上响出音乐，为什么波浪把它们的合唱送进静听的大地的心头——当我唱歌使你跳舞的时候。
当我把糖果递到你贪婪的手中的时候，我懂得为什么花心里有蜜，为什么水果里隐藏着甜汁——当我把糖果递到你贪婪的手中的时候。
你使不相识的朋友认识了我。你在别人家里给我准备了座位。你缩短了距离，你把生人变成弟兄。
在我必须离开故居的时候，我心里不安，我忘了是旧人迁入新居，而且你也住在那里。
通过生和死，今生和来世，无论你带领我到哪里，都是你，仍是你，我的无穷生命中的唯一伴侣，永远用欢乐的系链，把我的心和陌生的人联系在一起。
人一认识了你，世上就没有陌生的人，也没有了紧闭的门户。呵，请允许我的祈求，使我在与众生游戏之中，永不失去和你单独接触的福祉。
在荒凉的河岸上，深草丛中，我问她：“姑娘，你用披纱遮着灯，要到哪里去呢？我的房子黑暗寂寞，——把你的灯借给我吧！”她抬起乌黑的眼睛，从暮色中看了我一会。“我到河边来，”她说，“要在太阳西下的时候，把我的灯飘浮到水上去。”我独立在深草中，看着她那灯的微弱的火光，无用地在潮水上飘流。
在薄暮的寂静中，我问她：“你的灯火都已点上了——那么你拿着这灯到哪里去呢？我的房子黑暗寂寞，——把你的灯借给我吧。”她抬起乌黑的眼睛望着我的脸，站着沉吟了一会。最后她说：“我来是要把我的灯献给上天。”我站着看她的灯光在天空中无用地燃点着。
在无月的夜半朦胧之中，我问她：“姑娘，你为什么把灯抱在心前呢？我的房子黑暗寂寞，——把你的灯借给我吧。”
她站住沉思了一会，在黑暗中注视着我的脸。她说：“我是带着我的灯来参加灯节的。”我站着看着她的灯，无用地消失在众光之中。
我的上帝，从我满溢的生命之杯中，你要饮什么样的圣酒呢？
通过我的眼睛，来观看你自己的创造物，站在我的耳门上，来静听你自己的永恒的谐音，我的诗人，这是你的快乐吗？
你的世界在我的心灵里织上字句，你的快乐又给他们加上音乐。你把自己在梦中交给了我，又通过我来感觉你自己的完满的甜柔。
那在神光离合之中，潜藏在我生命深处的她，那在晨光中永远不肯揭开面纱的她，我的上帝，我要用最后的一首歌把她包裹起来，作为我给你的最后的献礼。
无数求爱的话，都已说过，但还没有赢得她的心；劝诱向她伸出渴望的臂，也是枉然。
我把她深藏在心里，到处漫游，我生命的荣枯围绕她起落。
她统治着我的思想、行动和睡梦，她却自己独居索处。
许多的人叩我的门来访问她，都失望地回去。
在这世界上从没有人和她面对过面，她在孤守着静待你的赏识。
你是天空，你也是窝巢。
呵，美丽的你，在窝巢里，就是你的爱，用颜色、声音和香气来围拥住灵魂。
在那里，清晨来了，右手提着金筐，带着美的花环，静静地替大地加冕。
在那里，黄昏来了，越过无人畜牧的荒林，穿过车马绝迹的小径，在她的金瓶里带着安靖的西方海上和平的凉飙。
但是在那里，纯白的光辉统治着伸展着的、为灵魂翱翔的、无际的天空。在那里无昼无夜，无形无色，而且永远、永远无有言说。
你的阳光射到我的地上，整天地伸臂站在我门前，把我的眼泪、叹息和歌曲变成的云彩，带回放在你的足边。
你喜爱地将这云带缠围在你的星胸之上，绕成无数的形式和褶纹，还染上变幻无穷的色彩。
它是那样地轻柔，那样地飘扬、温软，含泪而黯淡，因此你就爱惜它。呵，你这庄严无瑕者。这就是为什么它能够以它可怜的阴影遮掩你的可畏的白光。
就是这股生命的泉水，日夜流穿我的血管，也流穿过世界，又应节地跳舞。
就是这同一的生命，从大地的尘土里快乐地伸放出无数片的芳草，迸发出繁花密叶的波纹。
就是这同一的生命，在潮汐里摇动着生和死的大海的摇篮。
我觉得我的四肢因受着生命世界的爱抚而光荣。我的骄傲，是因为时代的脉搏此刻在我血液中跳动。
这欢欣的音律不能使你欢欣吗？不能使你回旋激荡，消失碎裂在这可怖的快乐旋转之中吗？
万物急遽地前奔，它们不停留也不回顾，任何力量都不能挽住他们，它们急遽地前奔。
季候应和着这急速不宁的音乐，跳舞着来了又去——颜色、声音、香味在这充溢的快乐里，汇注成奔流无尽的瀑泉，时时刻刻地在散溅、退落而死亡。
我应当自己发扬光大，四周放射，投映彩影于你的光辉之中——这便是你的幻境。
你在你自身里立起隔栏，用无数不同的音调来呼唤你的分身。你这分身已在我体内形成。
高亢的歌声响彻诸天，在多彩的眼泪与微笑、震惊与希望中回应着；波起复落，梦破又圆。在我里面是你自身的破灭。
你卷起的那重帘幕，是用昼和夜的画笔，绘出了无数的花样。幕后的你的座位，是用奇妙神秘的曲线织成，抛弃了一切无聊的笔直的线条。
你我组成的伟丽的行列，布满了天空。因着你我的歌声，太空都在震颤，一切时代都在你我捉迷藏中度过了。
就是他，那最深奥的，用他深隐的摩触使我清醒。
就是他把神符放在我的眼上，又快乐地在我心弦上弹弄出种种哀乐的调子。
就是他用金、银、青、绿的灵幻的色丝，织起幻境的披纱。他的脚趾从衣褶中外露。在他的摩触之下，我忘却了自己。
日来年往，就是他永远以种种名字，种种姿态，种种的深悲和极乐，来打动我的心。
在断念摒欲之中，我不需要拯救。在万千欢愉的约束里，我感到了自由的拥抱。
你不断地在我的瓦罐里满满地斟上不同颜色、不同芬芳的新酒。
我的世界，将以你的火焰点上他的万盏不同的明灯，安放在你庙宇的坛前。
不，我永不会关上我感觉的门户。视、听、触的快乐会含带着你的快乐。
是的，我的一切幻想会燃烧成快乐的光明，我的一切愿望将结成爱的果实。
白日已过，暗影笼罩大地。是我到河边汲水的时候了。
晚空凭着水的凄音流露着切望。呵，它呼唤我出到暮色中来，荒径上断绝人行，风起了，波浪在河里翻腾。
我不知道是否应该回家去。我不知道我会遇见什么人。浅滩的小舟上有个不相识的人正在弹着琵琶。
你赐给我们世人的礼物，满足了我们一切的需要，可是他们又毫未减少地返回到你那里。
河水有它每天的工作，匆忙地穿过田野和村庄；但它的不绝的水流，又曲折地回来洗你的双脚。
花朵以芬芳熏香了空气；但它最终的任务，是把自己献上给你。
对你供献不会使世界穷困。
人们从诗人的字句里，选取自己心爱的意义；但是诗句的最终意义是指向着你。
过了一天又是一天，呵，我生命的主，我能够和你对面站立吗？呵，全世界的主，我能合掌和你对面站立吗？
在广阔的天空下，严静之中，我能够带着虔恭的心，和你对面站立吗？
在你的劳碌的世界里，喧腾着劳作和奋斗，在营营扰扰的人群中，我能和你对面站立吗？
当我已做完了今生的工作，呵，万王之王，我能够独自悄立在你的面前吗？７７我知道你是我的上帝，却远立在一边——我不知道你是属于我的，就走近你。我知道你是我的父亲，就在你脚前俯伏——我没有像和朋友握手那样地紧握你的手。
我没有在你降临的地方，站立等候，把你抱在胸前，当你作同道，把你占有。
你是我兄弟的兄弟，但是我不理他们，不把我赚得的和他们平分，我以为这样做，才能和你分享我的一切。
在快乐和痛苦里，我都没有站在人类的一边，我以为这样做才能和你站在一起。
我畏缩着不肯舍生，因此我没有跳入生命的伟大的海洋里。
当鸿蒙初辟，繁星第一次射出灿烂的光辉，众神在天上集会，唱着，“呵，完美的图画，完全的快乐！”
有一位神忽然叫起来了——“光链里仿佛断了一环，一颗星星走失了。”
他们金琴的弦子猛然折断了，他们的歌声停止了，惊惶地叫着——“对了。那颗走失的星星是最美的，她是诸天的光荣！”
从那天起，他们不住地寻找她，众口相传地说，因为她丢了，世界失去了一种快乐。
只在严静的夜里，众星微笑着互相低语说——“寻找是无用的，无缺的完美正笼盖着一切！”
假如我今生无缘遇到你，就让我永远感到恨不相逢——让我念念不忘，让我在醒时或梦中都怀带着这悲哀的痛苦。
当我的日子在世界的闹市中度过，我的双手满捧着每日的赢利的时候，让我永远觉得我是一无所获——让我念念不忘，让我在醒时或梦中都怀带着这悲哀的苦痛。
当我坐在路边，疲乏喘息，当我在尘土中铺设卧具，让我永远记着前面还有悠悠的长路——让我念念不忘，让我在醒时或梦中都怀带着这悲哀的苦痛。
当我的屋子装饰好了，箫笛吹起，欢笑声喧的时候，让我永远觉得我还没有请你光临——让我念念不忘，让我在醒时或梦中都怀带着这悲哀的苦痛。
我像一片秋天的残云，无主地在空中飘荡。呵，我的永远光耀的太阳！你的摩触还没有蒸化我的水气，使我与你的光明合一。因此我计算着和你分离的悠长的年月。
假如这是你的愿望，假如这是你的游戏，就请把我这流逝的空虚染上颜色，镀上金辉，让它在狂风中飘浮，舒卷成种种的奇观。
而且假如你愿意在夜晚结束这场游戏，我就在黑暗中，或在灿白晨光的微笑中，在净化的清凉中，溶化消失。
在许多闲散的日子，我悼惜着虚度了的光阴。但是光阴并没有虚度，我的主。你掌握了我生命里寸寸的光阴。
你潜藏在万物的心里，培育着种子发芽，蓓蕾绽红，花落结实。
我困乏了，在闲榻上睡眠，想象一切工作都已停歇。早晨醒来，我发现我的园里，却开遍了异蕊奇花。
你手里的光明是无限的，我的主。你的分秒是无法计算的。
夜去明来，时代像花开花落。你晓得怎样来等待。
你的世纪，一个接着一个，来完成一朵小小的野花。
我们的光阴不能浪费，因为没有时间，我们必须争取机缘。我们太穷苦了，决不可迟到。
因此，在我把时间让给每一个急性的、向我索要时间的人时，我的时间就虚度了，最后你的神坛上就没有一点祭品。
一天过去，我赶忙前来，怕你的门已经关闭；但是我发现时间还有余裕。
圣母呵，我要把我悲哀的眼泪穿成珠链，挂在你的颈上。
星星把光叫做成足镯，来装扮你的双足，但是我的珠链要挂在你的胸前。
名利自你而来，也全凭你予取，但这悲哀却完全是我自己的。当我把它当作祭品献给你的时候，你就以你的恩慈来酬谢我。
离愁弥漫世界，在无际的天空中生出无数的情境。
就是这离愁整夜地悄望星辰，在七月阴雨之中，萧萧的树籁变成抒情的诗歌。
就是这笼压弥漫的痛苦，加深而成为爱欲，而成为人间的苦乐；就是它永远通过诗人的心灵，融化、流涌而成为诗歌。
当战士们从他们主公的明堂里刚走出来，他们的武力藏在哪里呢？他们的甲胄和干戈藏在哪里呢？
他们显得无助、可怜，当他们从他们主公的明堂走出的那一天，如雨的箭矢向着他们飞射。
当战士们整队走回他们主公的明堂里的时候，他们的武力藏在哪里呢？
他们放下了刀剑和弓矢；和平在他们的额上放光。当他们整队走回他们主公的明堂的那一天，他们把他们生命的果实留在后面了。
死亡，你的仆人来到我的门前。他渡过不可知的海洋临到我家，来传达你的召令。
夜色沉黑，我心中畏惧——但是我要端起灯来，开起门来，鞠躬欢迎他。因为站在我门前的是你的使者。
我要含泪地合掌礼拜他。我要把我心中的财产，放在他脚前，来礼拜他。
他的使命完成了就要回去，在我的晨光中留下了阴影；在我萧条的家里，只剩下孤独的我，作为最后献礼的祭品。
在无望的希望中，我在房里的每一个角落找她；我找不到她。
我的房子很小，一旦丢了东西就永远找不回来。
但是你的房子是无边无际的，我的主，为着找她，我来到了你的面前。
我站在你薄暮金色的天穹下，向你抬起渴望的眼。
我来到了永恒的边涯，在这里万物不灭——无论是希望，是幸福，或是从泪眼中望见的人面。
呵，我把空虚的生命浸到这海洋里吧，跳进这最深的完满里吧。让我在宇宙的完整里，感觉一次那失去的温馨的接触吧。
破庙里的神呵！七弦琴的断弦不再弹唱赞美你的诗歌，晚钟也不再宣告礼拜你的时间。
你周围的空气是寂静的。
流荡的春风来到你荒凉的居所。它带来了香花的消息——就是那素来供养你的香花，现在却无人来呈献了。
你往昔的礼拜者，漂泊流浪，永远在企望那还未得到的恩典。黄昏来到，灯光明灭于尘影之中，他困乏地带着饥饿的心回到这破庙里来。
对你来说，许多佳节都在静默中来到，破庙的神呵。许多礼拜之夜，也在无火无灯中度过了。
精巧的艺术家，造了许多新的神像，当他们的末日来到了，便被抛入遗忘的圣河里。
只有破庙的神遗留在无人礼拜的、不死的冷淡之中。
我不再高谈阔论了——这是我主的意旨。从那时起我轻声细语。我心里的话要用歌曲低唱出来。
人们急急忙忙到国王的市场上去，买卖的人都在那里。但在工作正忙的正午，我就早早地离开。
那就让花朵在我的园中开放，虽然花时未到；让蜜蜂在中午奏起它们慵懒的嗡鸣的乐曲。
我曾把充分的时间用在理欲交战里，但如今是我暇日游侣的雅兴把我的心拉到他那里去；我也不知道，这忽然的召唤会引到什么无用的结局。
当死神来叩你的门时，你将以什么贡献他呢？
呵，我要在我客人面前，摆上我的满斟的生命之杯——我决不让他空手回去。
我一切的秋日和夏夜的丰美的收获，我匆促的生命中的一切获得和收藏，在我临终，死神来叩我的门的时候，我都要摆在他的面前。
呵，你这生命最后的完成，死亡，我的死亡，来对我低语吧！
我天天在守望着你；为你，我忍受着生命中的苦乐。
我的一切存在，一切所有，一切希望和一切的爱，总在深深的秘密中向你奔流。你的眼睛向我最后一盼，我的生命就永远是你的。
花环已为新郎编好。婚礼行过，新娘就要离家，在静夜里和她的主人独对了。
我知道这日子将要来到，当我眼中的人世渐渐消失，生命默默地向我道别，把最后的帘幕拉过我的眼前。
但是星辰将在夜中守望，晨曦仍旧升起，时间像海波的汹涌，激荡着欢乐与哀伤。
当我想到我的时间的终点，时间的隔栏便破裂了。在死的光明中，我看见了你的世界和世界里弃置的珍宝。最低的座位是极其珍奇的，最小的生物也是世间少有的。
我追求而未得到和我已经得到的东西——让它们过去吧。只让我真正地据有那些我所轻视和忽略的东西。
我已经请了假。兄弟们，祝我一路平安吧！我向你们大家鞠了躬就启程了。
我把我门上的钥匙交还——我把房子的所有权都放弃了。我只请求听你们最后的几句好话。
我们做过很久的邻居，但是我接受的多，给与的少。现在天已破晓，我黑暗屋角的灯光已灭，召命已来，我就准备启行了。
在我动身的时光，祝我一路福星吧，我的朋友们！天空里晨光辉煌，我的前途是美丽的。
不要问我带些什么到那边去。我只带着空空的手和企望的心。
我要戴上我婚礼的花冠。我穿的不是红褐色的行装，虽然间关险阻，我心里也没有惧怕。
旅途尽处，晚星将生，从王宫的门口将弹出黄昏的凄乐。
当我刚跨过此生的门槛的时候，我并没有发觉。
是什么力量使我在这无边的神秘中开放，像一朵嫩蕊，中夜在森林里开花！
早起我看到光明，我立时觉得在这世界里我不是一个生人，那不可思议、不可名状的，已以我自己母亲的形象，把我抱在怀里。
就是这样，在死亡里，这同一的不可知者又要以我熟识的面目出现。因为我爱今生，我知道我也会一样地爱死亡。
当母亲从婴儿口中拿开右乳的时候，他就啼哭，但他立刻又从左乳得到了安慰。
当我走的时候，让这个作我的别话吧，就是说我所看过的是卓绝无比的。
我曾尝过在光明海上开放的莲花里的隐蜜，因此我受了祝福——让这个做我的别话吧。
在这形象万千的游戏室里，我已经游玩过，在这里我已经瞥见了那无形象的他。
我浑身上下因着那无从接触的他的摩抚而喜颤；假如死亡在这里来临，就让它来好了——让这个作我的别话吧。
当我同你做游戏的时候，我从来没有问过你是谁。我不懂得羞怯和惧怕，我的生活是热闹的。
清晨你就来把我唤醒，像我自己的伙伴一样，带着我跑过林野。
那些日子，我从来不想了解你对我唱的歌曲的意义。我只随声附和，我的心应节跳舞。
现在，游戏的时光已过，这突然来到我眼前的情景是什么呢？世界低下眼来看着你的双脚，和它的肃静的众星一同敬畏地站着。
我要以胜利品——我的失败的花环来装饰你。逃避使不受征服，是我永远做不到的。
我准知道我的骄傲会碰壁，我的生命将因极端的痛苦而炸裂，我的空虚的心将像一枝空苇呜咽出哀声，顽石也融成眼泪。
我准知道莲花的百瓣不会永远闭合，深藏的花蜜定将显露。
从碧空将有一只眼睛向我凝视，在默默地召唤我。我将空无所有，绝对地空无所有，我将从你脚下领受绝对的死亡。
当我放下舵盘，我知道你来接收的时候到了。当做的事立刻要做了。挣扎是无用的。
那就把手拿开，静默地承认失败吧，我的心呵，要想到能在你的岗位上默坐，还算是幸运的。
我的几盏灯都被一阵阵的微风吹灭了，为想把它们重新点起，我屡屡地把其他的事情都忘却了。
这次我要聪明一点，把我的席子铺在地上，在暗中等候；什么时候你高兴，我的主，悄悄地走来坐下吧。
我跳进形象海洋的深处，希望能得到那无形象的完美的珍珠。
我不再以我的旧船去走遍海港，我乐于弄潮的日子早已过去了。
现在我渴望死于不死之中。
我要拿起我的生命的弦琴，进入无底深渊旁边，那座涌出无调的乐音的广厅。