Chapter 150 "The Gardener Collection"-1

(India) Tagore Servant Show mercy to your servant, my queen!The queen's council is over, and my servants are gone.Why are you here so late?Servant After you have talked with others, it will be my time. I come to ask what work is left for your last servant to do.Queen What else do you want to do at this late hour?Servant Let me be the gardener in your garden.Queen, what kind of silly idea is this?Servant I will leave other work. I throw my sword and spear into the dust.Do not send me to far courts; do not order me new crusades.Just let me be the gardener in the garden.What is your duty, queen?Servants serve your idle days.

I will keep fresh the grassy paths of your morning walks, and flowers willing to die will greet your feet with praise at every step. I will push your swing between the boughs of the buckeye; the late moon will struggle to kiss your dress through the leaves. I will fill the lamp by your bed with scented oils, and I will anoint your foot-mats with ointments of sandalwood and saffron.Queen, what reward do you want?Servant, as long as you allow me to hold your small fist like a tender succulent, put the flower strings on your slender wrists; allow me to stain the soles of your feet with the red juice of the saffron flower, and kiss you Wipe away the dust that was accidentally left there.Queen your prayer is accepted, my servant, you will be the gardener in my garden.

"O poet, the night is coming; thy hair has turned gray. "Have you heard in your solitary contemplation the news of the afterlife?" "It is night," said the poet, "though it is late, I am still listening, for someone may call from the village. "I watch, if young wandering hearts come together, Two wistful eyes yearn for music to break their silence and speak for them. "If I sit on the shores of life and meditate on death and the afterlife, who will write their passionate poetry? "Early evening stars fade away. "The red light in the cremation ashes slowly dies down by the still river.

"In the twilight of the waning moon, the jackals howled in unison from the courtyard of the empty house. "If wanderers leave home, come here to watch the night, and bow their heads to listen to the whispers of darkness, who will whisper the secret of life to his ear, if I close the door and try to escape the entanglement of the world? "My hair turning gray is a small thing. "I am forever as young as the youngest man in the village, and as old as the oldest man in the village. "Some have sweet, innocent smiles, others have sly twinkles in their eyes. "Some people shed tears in the daytime, while others' tears are hidden in the darkness.

"They all need me, I don't have time to meditate on the afterlife. "I'm the same age as everyone, so what if my hair turns gray?" In the morning I cast my net into the sea. Out of the dark depths I pull out strange and beautiful things—some bright as smiles, some shimmering like tears, some flushed like brides' cheeks. When I returned home with the burden of the day, I was sitting in the garden and pulling flowers and leaves leisurely. I pondered for a while, then put everything I had caught at her feet, and stood silently. She glanced at it and said, "What strange things are these? I don't know what they are for!"

I hung my head in shame and thought, "I didn't fight for these things, and I didn't buy them from the market; this wasn't some gift for her." All night long I threw these things, one by one, into the street. The morning walkers come; they pick up these and take them far away. I'm so annoyed, why did they put my house on the side of the road leading into town? They tie their laden boats to my trees. They come and go at will. I sat and watched them; the hours were passing. I can't say no to them.And so my days are over. Day and night their footsteps resound before my door.

In vain I cried: "I don't know you." Some people are known by my fingers, some are known by my nose, the blood in my veins seems to know them, and some are known by my soul dream. I can't say no to them.I called to them and said, "Anyone who wants to come to my house, please come. Yes, come." In the morning, the bell in the temple rang. They came with baskets. Their feet are as red as roses.The faint morning light shone on their faces. I can't say no to them.I called to them and said, "Come and pick flowers in my garden. Come here. " At noon, the gong sounded in front of the temple gate.

I don't know why they leave their work to hang around my fence. The flowers in their hair are faded and withered; the notes in their flutes are dull. I can't say no to them.I called to them and said, "It is cool in the shade of my tree. Come on, friends. " Crickets chirped in the forest at night. Who came slowly to my door and knocked softly? I vaguely saw his face, he didn't say a word, the silence of the sky surrounded me. I cannot turn away my silent guest.I watched his face from the darkness, and dream hours passed. I am restless, I long for distant things.

My soul goes out in ecstasy, to touch the edge of the dark distance. O "great afterlife", O high-pitched call of your flute! I forget, I always forget, I have no wings to fly, I am forever tied here. I am eager and sober, I am a stranger in a foreign land. Your breath whispers to me an impossible hope. My heart knows your languages ​​as it understands its own. O "distant seeking", O high-pitched call of your flute! I forget, I always forget, I know no way, I have no winged horse. I am restless, I am a wanderer in my own mind. In the mist of weary hours your vast visions appear in the blue of the sky!

O "the farthest end", O high-pitched call of your flute! I forget, I always forget, that in the house where I live alone all the doors are shut! A domesticated bird is in a cage, a free bird is in a forest. When the time came, they met, as it was meant to be. "Oh, my love," said the free bird, "let us fly to the woods." The caged bird whispered, "Come here and let us both live in cages." The free bird said, "Where is there room to spread your wings in the middle of the fence?" "Poor thing," said the caged bird, "I don't know where to perch in the sky."

The free bird cried, "My darling, sing the song of the woods." The caged bird said, "Sit beside me, and I will teach you the language of the scholars." The free bird cries, "No, no! Songs cannot be taught." "Poor me," said the caged bird, "I can't sing wild songs." Their love is intensified by longing, but they can never fly together. They look at each other across the fence, and their desire to know each other is vain. They flapped their wings in attachment and sang, "Come closer, my love!" "I can't do this," said the free bird, "I'm afraid of the closed door of this cage." The caged bird whispered, "My wings are weak and dead." Oh, mother, the young prince is going to pass by our door,--how can I think of work this morning? Teach me how to tie my hair; tell me which clothes to wear. Why do you look at me in surprise, mother? I know that he will not look up at my window; I know that in a moment he will be out of my sight; only the flickering flute will whimper to me from afar. But the young prince will pass by our door, and it's time for me to put on my best clothes. Oh, mother, the young prince is going to pass by our door,--how can I think of work this morning? Teach me how to tie my hair; tell me which clothes to wear. Why do you look at me in surprise, mother? I know that he will not look up at my window; I know that in a moment he will be out of my sight; only the flickering flute will whimper to me from afar. But the young prince will pass by our door, and it's time for me to put on my best clothes. Oh, mother, the young prince has passed our door, and from his chariot shines the golden light of the morning sun. I brushed the veil from my face, I tore the ruby ​​choker from my neck, and threw it in his path. Why do you look at me in surprise, mother? I know full well that he did not pick up my collar; I know that it was crushed under his wheels, leaving a red spot in the dust, and no one knows what my gift was like, nor who gave it. But the young prince passed by our door once, and I left my breast treasure in his path. When the light by my bed goes out, I wake up with the morning bird. I put fresh flower strings on my hair and sit in front of the open window. The young traveler came down the road in the rosy morning mist. Beads are on his neck, and the sun is on his crown.He stopped at my door and asked me in a voice of longing, "Where is she?" Because of my deep shyness, I was embarrassed to say: "She is me, young pedestrian, she is me." Evening came, and the lights had not yet been turned on. I braided my hair restlessly. In the light of the setting sun came young pedestrians in chariots. His chariot-horses are foaming at the mouth, and his robe is covered with dust. He got off in front of my door and asked in a tired voice, "Where is she?" Because of deep shyness, I am ashamed to say: "She is me, weary traveler, she is me." An April night.There is a light in my house. The south wind blows gently.The talkative parrot fell asleep in the cage. My bodice is as colorful as a peacock's neck, and my veil is as green as tender grass. I sat on the ground in front of the window and watched the deserted street. In the dark night, I kept whispering: "She is me, disappointed pedestrian, she is me." When I went to a tryst alone at night, the birds did not sing, the wind did not blow, and the houses on both sides of the street stood silently. It was my own anklets that made me shy as I walked louder. When I stand on the balcony and listen to his footsteps, the leaves do not shake, and the river is still like a sword on the lap of a sleeping sentinel. It's my own heart that beats wildly - I don't know how to calm it down. When my love comes, sit beside me, when my body trembles, my eyelashes droop, the night gets darker, the wind blows the lights out, and the clouds drag the veil over the stars. It is the treasure in my own breast that shines.I don't know how to cover it up. Leave your work alone, my bride.Listen, here comes the guest. Do you hear him shaking the chain that fastens the door? Be careful not to let your anklets rattle, and your steps are not too hasty in meeting him. Leave your work, bride, guests are coming in the evening. No, it's not a cold wind, bride, don't be dismayed. It was a full moon on an April night, and the shadows in the courtyard were dim, and the sky above was bright. Cover your face with a veil, if you feel need; and go to the door with a lamp, if you are afraid. No, it's not a cold wind, bride, don't be dismayed. If you are shy you don't have to talk to him, just stand by the door when you greet him. If he asks you, if you are willing to do so, you just lower your eyes in silence. Don't let your bracelets rattle when you bring him in with the lamp. Don't have to talk to him if you're shy. Is your work not done, bride?Listen, here comes the guest. Have you not lighted the lamps in the cowshed? Haven't you got the altar basket ready for evening prayers yet? You haven't painted the bright red auspicious spots in the crevices of your hair, haven't you done your evening makeup yet? Oh, bride, don't you hear, is there a visitor? Let go of your work! Come thus; don't delay in dressing. Even if your braids are loose, even if your seams aren’t straight, even if your ribbons aren’t tied properly, don’t worry about it. Come thus; don't delay in dressing. Come on, trot across the lawn. Let the dew get the pink from your feet, let the bells loose from your ankles, let the pearls fall from your chains. Come on, trot across the lawn. Did you not see the clouds and mists covering the sky? Flocks of cranes flew from the far bank, and the wind blew through the evergreen shrubs. The startled cow ran to the shed in the village. Did you not see the clouds and mists covering the sky? In vain you lit the lamp of evening makeup - it quivered and went out in the wind. Who can tell that you haven't painted black smoke on your eyelashes?Because your eyes are blacker than rain clouds. In vain you lit the lamp of evening makeup - it went out. Come on like this, don't delay in dressing up. If the garland is not put on, who cares; if the bracelet is not fastened, let it be. The sky was clogged with cloud—it was late. Come thus; don't delay in dressing. If you're going to be busy filling your pitcher, come on, come to my lake. The lake will wrap around your feet, babbling its secrets. The sand is shaded by a coming rain cloud, and the mist hangs low on the green line of the bushes like thick hair on your brow. I am deeply familiar with the rhythm of your steps, it beats in my heart. Come, come to my lake, if you must fill your pitcher. If you want to laze around and let your water bottle float on the water, come on, come on to my lake. The grass slopes are green and there are countless wild flowers. Your thoughts will fly from your dark eyes like a bird from its nest. Your pizza will fall to your feet. Come, if you will sit idle, come to my lake. If you want to leave your play and jump in the water, come, come to my lake. Leave your blue scarf on the shore; the blue water will cover you and cover you.The waves will tiptoe to kiss your neck and whisper in your ear. Come on, if you want to jump in the water, come to my lake. If you want to go mad and throw yourself into death, come, come to my lake. It is cool and bottomless. It was as dark as dreamless sleep. In its depths night is day and song is silence. Come, if you want to plunge into death, come to my lake. I wanted nothing but to stand behind the trees at the edge of the forest. Tiredness still lingers in dawn's eyes, and the dew is in the air. The lazy smell of wet grass hangs in the mist of the ground. Under the banyan tree you milk the cows with creamy hands. I stood still. I didn't say a word.It was the hidden bird singing in the dense leaves. Mango trees sprinkled flowers on the village path, and bees buzzed one by one. The door of Shiva's temple by the pond opened, and worshipers began to chant sutras. You milk the jug on your lap. I stood with the empty bucket. I didn't come near you. The sky wakes up with the sound of the gong in the temple. Street dust flies under the driven cow's hooves. With gurgling water bottles at their waists, women come from the river. Your bracelets jingle, milk foam spills over the rim of the jug. The morning light fades away and I don't come near you. I was walking on the side of the road, and I didn't know why, it was past noon, and the bamboo branches rustled in the wind. The slanting shadow stretched out its arms and dragged Liu Guang's feet. The cuckoos are tired of singing. I was walking on the side of the road and I don't know why. Shades of low-hanging trees cover the huts by the water. Someone was busy at work, and her bracelet played music in one corner. I'm standing in front of the hut, I don't know why. The winding path leads through a field of mustard greens and layers of mango groves. It passes the village temple and the market at the ferry. I stopped in front of this hut, I don't know why. Several years ago, on a windy day in March, spring whispered lazily, and mango flowers fell to the ground. The waves jumped up and passed the copper bottle standing on the side of the ferry. I think about this windy day in March and I don't know why. The shadows get darker, and the cattle go to the stalls. The sun was pale on the desolate pasture, and the villagers were waiting to be crossed by the river. I walked back slowly, I don't know why. I run like a musk deer in the shade, mad for my scent. The night is the night in the middle of May, and the breeze is the breeze of the southern country. I was lost, I wandered, I sought what was not available, I got what I did not seek. The image of my own desire came out of me and danced. The shimmering figure flew by. I wanted to hold on to it, but it dodged and flew me down. I seek what I cannot have, and I obtain what I do not seek. Hand in hand, eye in eye; thus begins the record of our hearts. It is a moonlit night in March; there is the fragrance of impatiens in the air; my flute is thrown on the ground, and your strings are not woven. The love between you and me is as simple as a song. Your orange-yellow veil enchants my eyes. The jasmine wreath you made for me made my heart tremble like a compliment. This is a game of giving and staying, hiding and showing; some smiles, some shyness, and some sweet and useless resistance. The love between you and me is as simple as a song. There is no mystery beyond the present; no insistence on the impossible; no shadow behind the charm; no exploration of the dark depths. The love between you and me is as simple as a song: We have not stepped out of all language into eternal silence; we have not raised our hands to nothing for anything but hope. We give, we take, and that's enough. We have not crushed joy into dust to extract the wine of pain. The love between you and me is as simple as a song. The yellow bird sings in its own tree and makes my heart dance with joy. The two of us live in the same village, and this is one of our joys. Her beloved pair of lambs graze in the shade of my garden trees. If they come into my cornfield, I take them in my arms. Our village is called Kangjana, and people call our small river Anjana. Everyone in the village knows my name, but her name is Ruan Chana. There is only a field between us. The bees that nest in our trees fly to their woods to gather honey. The fallen flowers from their ferry street floated into the pond where we bathed. Baskets of dried safflower were sent from their fields to our market. Our village is called Kangjana, and people call our small river Anjana. Everyone in the village knows my name, but her name is Ruan Chana. The winding alley leading to her house is filled with the fragrance of mango flowers in spring. The ramie is blooming in our field when their linseed is harvested. The stars that smile on their houses give us the same brilliance. The rain that overflows their gutters also brings joy to our grove of Katham. Our village is called Kangjana, and people call our small river Anjana. Everyone in the village knows my name, but her name is Ruan Chana. When the two sisters went out to fetch water, they came to the spot, and they smiled. They must have noticed the man standing behind the tree every time they came out to fetch water. The sisters whispered to each other as they walked past the place. They must have guessed the secret of the man standing behind the tree whenever they came out to fetch water. Suddenly their water bottles toppled over, and the water poured out, when they came to this place. They must have noticed that the heart of the man standing behind the tree was beating whenever they came out to fetch water. The sisters glanced at each other and smiled when they came to the spot. Their quick steps, accompanied by laughter, disturbed the soul of the man who stood behind the tree whenever they came out to fetch water. 19 You walk along the road by the river with your full water pitcher around your waist. Why do you turn your head hastily, peeking at me from behind the fluttering veil? This flash that came to me from the darkness was like a cool wind passing over sparkling waves that trembled to the shaded shore. It flew towards me like a bird in the night, rushing through the open windows on either side of an unlit room, and disappearing into the night again. You are like a star hidden behind the mountain, and I am a pedestrian on the road. But why did you stand for a moment, glancing at my face through the veil, while you walked along the riverside path with a filled water bottle around your waist? He comes and goes every day. Go, give him the flowers from my head, my friend. If he asks who the flower-giver is, I beg you not to tell him my name—for he comes and goes. He sat on the ground under a tree. Make him a seat of flowers and leaves, my friend. His eyes were melancholy and it brought melancholy to my heart. He didn't say what was on his mind; he just came and went. Why did he come to my door, this young wanderer, at dawn? Every time I pass him in and out, my eyes are always drawn to his face. I don't know if I should talk to him or keep silent.Why did he come to my door specially? The cloudy night in July is dark; the sky in autumn is light blue; the south wind makes the spring restless. He composes new songs in new keys every time. I put down my work and my eyes were full of fog.Why did he come to my door specially? As she hurried past me, the hem of her skirt touched me. From the nameless island of a heart, a burst of spring warmth suddenly blows. A flurry of flying touches brushes past me for a moment, and then disappears again, fluttering in the breeze like torn petals. It fell on my heart like the sigh of her body and the whisper of her heart. Why do you sit there idly, jingling your bracelets? Fill up your water bottle.It's time for you to go home. Why do you fiddle with the water leisurely and secretly glance at the passers-by on the road? Fill your water bottle and go home. The hours of the morning passed—the dark water flowed on and on. The waves whispered to each other, laughed and played. Wandering clouds gather on the horizon of Tono Highlands. They linger leisurely looking at your face and smiling. Fill your water bottle and go home. Do not hide the secrets of your heart, my friend! Tell me, tell me in secret. You who smile so softly and speak so softly, my heart will hear your words, not my ears. The night is deep, the courtyard is quiet, and the bird's nest is shrouded in sleep. From hesitant tears, from brooding smiles, from sweet shyness and pain, tell me the secret of your heart! "Come to us, young man, and tell us the truth, why is there madness in your eyes?" "I don't know what wild poppy wine I've drunk to make my eyes look mad." "Oh, what an embarrassment!" "Well, some people are smart and some are stupid, some are careful and some are sloppy. There are eyes that laugh and eyes that cry—my eyes are mad. " "Young man, why are you standing in the shadow of the tree like this?" "My feet are weary under the weight of my heavy heart, and I stand under the shadow of the tree." "Oh, what an embarrassment!" "Well, some keep marching, some hang around, some free, some chained—my feet are weary with the weight of my heavy heart." 26 "From your generous hand I take what is offered. I ask for nothing." "Yes, yes, I understand you, humble beggar, you are begging for everything a person has." "If you give me a dead flower, I will also wear it on my heart." "What if the flower has thorns?" "I just put up with it." "Yes, yes, I understand you, humble beggar, you are begging for everything a person has." "If you but one look of affection upon my face, it would make my life sweet till death." "What if it was just a cruel look?" "I'm going to let it pierce my heart forever." "Yes, yes, I understand you, humble beggar, you are begging for everything a person has." "Even if love brings you nothing but sorrow, trust it. Don't close your heart." "Oh, no, my friend, your words are too dark for me to understand." "A heart should be given along with a tear and a poem, I love you." "Oh, no, my friend, your words are too dark for me to understand." "Joy is fragile as dewdrops. It dies in laughter. Sorrow is strong and long-lasting. Let sorrowful love wake up in your eyes." "Oh, no, my friend, your words are too dark for me to understand." "The lotus blooms in the middle of the day and loses everything it has. In the winter fog of eternal life, it will no longer bud." "Oh, no, my friend, your words are too dark for me to understand." Your questioning eyes are sad.It seeks to know what I mean, as the moon probes the sea. I have exposed the beginning and end of my life to your eyes, without any secrets or reservations.Therefore you do not know me. If it were a precious stone, I could break it into a thousand pieces and wear it into a necklace to hang around your neck. If it were a flower, round, small and fragrant, I could pick it off a branch and put it on your hair. But it is a heart, my love.Where are its sides and bottom? You know not the ends of this kingdom, but you are still its queen. If it is a moment of joy, it will bloom in laughter, and you will see and understand at once. If it were a pang of pain, it would melt into crystal tears, wordlessly reflecting its deepest secrets. But it is love, my love. Its joys and pains are boundless, its needs and riches are endless. It is as close to you as your life, but you can never fully understand it. 29 Speak to me, I love!Tell me in words what you sing. The night is dark, the stars disappear into the clouds, and the wind sighs in the leaves. I will loose my hair, and my blue cloak will surround me like the night.I will hold your head close to my breast; whisper in your heart in sweet loneliness.I will close my eyes and listen.I will not look at your face. When your words are finished, we will sit in silence.Only the trees whisper in the dark. The night will be white.The sky will dawn.We'll look each other in the eye and go our separate ways. Speak to me, I love!Tell me in words what you sing. You are a night cloud floating in the sky of my dreams. I have always pictured you with loving longing. You are mine alone, mine alone, the inhabitant of my endless dreams! Thy feet are crimson with the heat of my longing, collector of my sunset songs! The wine of my pain sweetens your lips. You are mine alone, mine alone, the inhabitant of my solitary dream! I have darkened your eyes with the thick shadows of passion, ghost of the depths of my gaze! I caught you, entangled you, my love, in the snare of my music. You are mine alone, mine alone, the inhabitant of my eternal dream! My heart, this wild bird, found the sky in your eyes. They are the cradle of dawn, they are the kingdom of the stars. My poems disappear in their depths. Just let me fly high in the sky, soaring in the silent infinite space. Only let me break through its clouds and spread my wings in its sunshine. Tell me if all this is true.Tell me, my lover, if this is true. When those eyes flash with lightning, the cloud in your breast answers with a storm. Are my lips really as sweet as the buds of awakened first love? Does the memory of the vanished May still linger in my limbs? Does the earth, like a harp, tremble into poetry at the touch of my feet? Then when I come, does the dew really fall from the eyes of the night, and does the morning light really feel happy because it surrounds my body? Is it true, is it true, that your love has sought me through many ages and through many worlds? When at last you found me, did your everlasting longing find complete peace in my tender words, in my eyes lips and flowing hair? So is the mystery of "infinity" really written on my small forehead? Tell me, my love, if all this is true. 33 I love you, my love.Please forgive my love. Like a lost bird, I was caught. When my heart trembles, it loses its veil and becomes naked.Cover it with pity.Lover, please forgive my love. If you cannot love me, love, please forgive my pain. Don't squint at me from afar. I shall steal back to my corner and sit in the dark. I will cover my naked shame with my hands. Turn your back, my love, and forgive my pain. If you love me, love, forgive my joy. Don't laugh at my raging retreat when my heart is swept away by the flood of joy. Forgive my pride, love, and my joy, when I sit on my throne and reign over you with my tyrannical love, when I shower you with grace like a goddess. Don't leave without saying goodbye, I love. I visited all night and now I have sleepiness on my face. lest I lose you in my sleep. Don't leave without saying goodbye, I love. I started up and stretched out my hands to touch you, and I asked myself: "Is this a dream?" If only I could bind your feet with my heart, and hold it close to my breast! Don't leave without saying goodbye, I love. I'm afraid I recognize you too easily, and you play tricks on me. You blinded me with flashes of laughter to cover your tears. I know, I know your tricks, you never say what you have to say. I'm afraid I don't cherish you, so you do everything possible to avoid me. Lest I confuse you with the others and you stand alone. I know, I know your tricks, you never go the way you want to go. You ask more than anyone else, and therefore you are silent. You evade my gift with playful carelessness. I know, I know your tricks, you never accept what you want to accept. He whispered, "I love, lift up your eyes." I scolded him severely and said, "Go!" But he didn't move. He stood in front of me and took my hands, and I said, "Get away from me!" But he didn't go. He put his face close to my ear.I glared at him and said, "Shameless!" But he didn't move. His lips touched my cheek.I trembled and said, "You are so bold!" But he is not afraid of being ugly. He put a flower in my hair."It's no use either!" I said, but he stood still. He took the wreath from my neck and went away, and I wept, asking my heart and saying: "Why doesn't he come back?" "Would you like to hang your wreath of flowers about my neck, lady?" "But you know, that wreath I made is for all, for those who glimpse it by chance, who live in unexplored lands, who live in the songs of poets." It is too late now to ask for my heart in return. There was a time when my life was like a bud in which all its fragrance was stored. Now it has spewed far away. Who knows what charms can collect them and close them? My heart does not allow me to give to one, it is to be given to many. I love, once upon a time your poet put into his heart a great epic poem. Oh, I was not careful, it hit your jingle's anklet and caused sorrow. It breaks into poetic fragments and falls at your feet. All the cargo of ancient wars I'm laden with, Tossed by laughing waves, Soaked and sunk by tears. You must make this loss my gain, I love. If my hope of immortality after death is destroyed, make me immortal in life. I will not grieve this loss nor blame you. All morning I tried to make a wreath, but the flowers slipped off. You sat on the sidelines secretly looking at me from the corner of your scouting eyes. Ask the pair of dark mischievous eyes whose fault it is. I want to sing a song, but I can't. A snicker quivered on your lips; you asked it the reason of my failure. Let your smiling lips swear how my voice was lost in silence like a bee drunk in a lotus. It's night, it's time for the petals to close. Allow me to sit by your side and allow my lips to do what they can do in silence and in the twilight of the stars. A skeptical smile flickers in your eyes when I come to say goodbye. I've done this so many times you think I'll be back again soon. To tell you the truth, I had the same doubts in my mind. Because spring comes back every year; the full moon bids farewell and visits again, the flowers come back every year to blush on the branches, and it is likely that I say goodbye to you just to return to your side. But hold on to the illusion for a while, and don't drive it away callously. When I say I'm leaving you forever, accept it as the truth and let the mist of tears temporarily deepen the shadows around your eyes. When I come again, you can sneer all you want. I want to say to you the deepest words I have to say, but I dare not, lest you laugh. Because I laugh at myself and break my secrets in jest. I speak lightly of my pain, lest you should do so. I want to tell you the truest words I want to say, but I dare not, I am afraid you will not believe me. So I falsify the truth and say the opposite of what I really mean. I make ridiculous my pain because I fear you will. I would like to use the most precious terms to describe you, but I dare not, for fear that I will not be rewarded accordingly. Therefore I give you a harsh name and boast of my toughness. I hurt you because I was afraid you would never know my pain. 我渴望静默地坐在你的身旁，我不敢，怕我的心会跳到我的唇上。 因此我轻松地说东道西，把我的心藏在语言的后面。 我粗暴地对待我的痛苦，因为我怕你会这样做。 我渴望从你身边走开，我不敢，怕你看出我的懦怯。 因此我随随便便地昂首走到你的面前。