本文发表在 rolia.net 枫下论坛Stray Birds
By Rabindranath Tagore
Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away.
And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.
If you shed tears when you miss the sun, you also miss the stars.
Man is a born child, his power is the power of growth.
The trees come up to my window like the yearning voice of the dumb earth.
You smiled and talked to me of nothing and I felt that for this I had been waiting long.
The fish in the water is silent, the animal on the earth is noisy, the bird in the air is singing.
But Man has in him the silence of the sea, the noise of the earth and the music of the air.
The world rushes on over the strings of the lingering heart making the music of sadness.
We come nearest to the great when we are great in humility.
The mist, like love, plays upon the heart of the hills and brings out surprises of beauty.
Your voice, my friend, wanders in my heart, like the muffled sound of the sea among these listening pines.
What is this unseen flame of darkness whose sparks are the stars?
Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death like autumn leaves.
The touch of the nameless days clings to my heart like mosses round the old tree.更多精彩文章及讨论，请光临枫下论坛 rolia.net
By Rabindranath Tagore
Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away.
And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.
If you shed tears when you miss the sun, you also miss the stars.
Man is a born child, his power is the power of growth.
The trees come up to my window like the yearning voice of the dumb earth.
You smiled and talked to me of nothing and I felt that for this I had been waiting long.
The fish in the water is silent, the animal on the earth is noisy, the bird in the air is singing.
But Man has in him the silence of the sea, the noise of the earth and the music of the air.
The world rushes on over the strings of the lingering heart making the music of sadness.
We come nearest to the great when we are great in humility.
The mist, like love, plays upon the heart of the hills and brings out surprises of beauty.
Your voice, my friend, wanders in my heart, like the muffled sound of the sea among these listening pines.
What is this unseen flame of darkness whose sparks are the stars?
Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death like autumn leaves.
The touch of the nameless days clings to my heart like mosses round the old tree.更多精彩文章及讨论，请光临枫下论坛 rolia.net