My fancies are fireflies, ——specks of living light twinkling in the dark.
The voice of wayside pansies, that do not attract the careless glance, murmurs in these desultory lines.
———Rabindranath Tagore
我幻想成为一群萤火虫，——雀跃的花火，在黑暗中闪耀。
路旁的紫罗兰无法吸引那漫不经心的目光，但声音却在这些点点的诗句里呢喃。
唯有最真最美的事物，才能换取最纯最善的温情。
无论是翱翔于天空的自由的飞鸟，还是夜幕下草丛中的点点轻盈的流萤，
都是自然中最朴素的美，以真实，以明快，带来最细腻的哲思。
In the drowsy dark caves of the mind dreams build their nest with fragments dropped from day's caravan.
Spring scatters the petals of flowers that are not for the fruits of the future, but for the moment's whim.
Joy feed from the bond of earth's slumer rushes into numberless leaves, and dances in the air for a day.
My words that are slight may lightly dance upon time's waves when my works heavy with import have gone down.
在这孤寂晦暗的心的洞穴里，梦用白天沙漠里旅行遗落的残片搭建香巢。
春天播洒花瓣，不是为了以后的果实，而是为了刹那的妄想。
从尘世梦寐中获释的欢快，和着无数丛叶，漫天飞舞，以享受一日的欢愉。
我的话自是轻微，但当我的作品饱含着深沉的意义沉落时，它们却在时间的浪花上婆娑起舞。
Mind's underground moths grow filmly wings and take a farewell flight in the sunset sky.
The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.
My thoughts, like sparks, ride on winged surprises, carrying a single laughter.
The tree gazes in love at its own beautiful shadow which yet it never can grasp.
心底的飞蛾挥舞着薄膜的翅膀在天空的余晖中作别。
蝴蝶计算的，不是月份，而是刹那，因为它拥有足够的时间。
我的思想像火焰，带着朴素的笑容，骑在生着翅膀的惊异上。
那树爱怜地看着它自己美丽的影子，可永远抓不到。
Let my love, like sunlight, surround you and yet give you illumined freedom.
Days are colored bubbles that float upon the surface of fathomless night.
My offerings are too timid to claim your remembrance, and therefore you may remember them.
Leave out my name from the gift if it be a burden, but keep my song.
让我的爱像阳光似的围绕着你并给你色彩斑斓的自由。
白天是彩色的泡沫漂浮在高深莫测的夜的表面上。
我的供献都无颜让你纪念，因此你也许会将它们忘却。
如果我的名字是一种负担，就在这礼物上舍弃吧，但请保存着我的诗歌。
April, like a child, writes hieroglyphs on dust with flowers, wipes them away and forgets.
Memory, the priestess, kill the present and offers it heart to the shrine of the dead past.
From the solemn gloom of the temple children run out to sit in the dust, God watches them play and forget the priest.
My mind starts up at some flash on the flow of its thoughts like a brook at a sudden liquid note of its own that is never repeated.
四月，像个小孩，在尘土上用花朵摆出了象形文字，然后将它抹去，而且忘掉。
记忆，这女祭司，扼杀了现在，便把它的心献给那过去已死了的神坛。
小孩们从那庙宇肃穆的幽暗里跑出来，坐在尘埃中，上帝看着他们的游戏却忘记了那位祭司。
我的心因那瞬间的光亮，开始雀跃在思想之流里，就像小溪因它自身突然奔流的永不再来的音调而活跃一样。
In the mountain, stillness surges up to exolore its own height;
In the lake, movement stands still to contemplate its own depth.
The departing night's one kiss on the closed eyes of morning glows in the star of down.
Maiden, thy beauty is like a fruit, which is yet to mature, tense with an unyielding secret.
山上，涌出的静谧找寻它自己的巅峰。
湖里，停息的波浪沉思它自己的深渊。
即将消逝的夜晚在清晨闭着的眼睛上的一吻闪耀在晨星中。
少女呀，你的美像一只含苞待放的果实，带着倔强的秘密而紧张。
Sorrow that has lost its memory is like the dumb dark hours that have no bird songs but only the cricket's chirp.
Bigotry tries to keep truth safe in its hand with a grip that kill it.
Wishing to hearten a timid lamp great lights all her stars.
愁怨失去了记忆，就像暗淡沉郁的光阴，没有鸟儿的鸣唱，只有蟋蟀的窸窣声。
偏见想把真理安全地紧握手中，却将它捏死了。
想要鼓励一盏羞怯的灯点燃，伟大的夜空却亮起了她漫天的繁星。
Though he holds in his arms the earthbride, the sky is ever immensely away.
God seeks comrades and claims love, the Devil seeks slaves and claims obedience.
The soil in return for her service keeps the tree tied to her, the sky asks nothing and leaves it free.
虽然天空想要拥抱他的大地新娘，却总是无比遥远。
上帝找寻伙伴儿要求爱，魔鬼找寻奴隶而要求顺从。
树木被土地捆绑在自己身上，当做服务的报酬；天空却什么都不要，就让它自由。
真正欢快而踏实的脚步，是拥有自由；
真正博爱而真诚的事业，是给予自由。
即使是最沉重的往事，在时光的洪流中也会不自觉地变轻；
哪怕是最刻骨铭心的伤痛，在浩瀚的宇宙里也会慢慢淡化。
人世间的求而不得，是世间最苦涩的酒，往事如沙，令人绝望；
自然界的日升月落，却成了最醇香的茶，良辰似梦，治愈心灵。
面对星辰的永恒运转，我们便像一棵苇草般渺小，
那时，便忘却了一切重担，觉得轻快；
面对萤火的闪烁朦胧，我们便像一个孩童般天真，
彼刻，便抛下了一切世故，感到自由。
有时，正是那些不经意间的感动，
才让我们更好地认识最真实的自己，
更多地体悟人生的百般滋味。
（译文：郑振铎）
