园丁集 第十二章（5）（2/2）
《园丁集》作者：（印度）泰戈尔（Tagore，… 2017-04-14 03:38
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The baby cried out in its dream, nestling close to its mother.
God commanded,“Stop, fool, leave not thy home.”but still he heard not.
God sighed and complained,“Why does my servant wander to seek me, forsaking me?”
The Gardener 76
The fair was on before the temple. It had rained from the early morning and the day came to its end.
Brighter than all the gladness of the crowd was the bright smile of a girl who bought for a farthing a whistle of palm leaf.
The shrill joy of that whistle floated above all laughter and noise.
An endless throng of people came and jostled together. The road was muddy, the river in flood, the field under water in ceaseless rain.
Greater than all the troubles of the crowd was a little boy’s trouble—he had not a farthing to buy a painted stick.
His wistful eyes gazing at the shop made this whole meeting of men so pitiful.
The Gardener 77
The workman and his wife from the west country are busy digging to make bricks for the kiln.
Their little daughter goes to the landing-place by the river; there she has no end of scouring and scrubbing of pots and pans.
Her little brother, with shaven head and brown, naked, mud-covered limbs,follows after her and waits patiently on the high bank at her bidding.
She goes back home with the full pitcher poised on her head, the shining brass pot in her left hand, holding the child with her right—she the tiny servant of her mother, grave with the weight of the household cares.
The baby cried out in its dream, nestling close to its mother.
God commanded,“Stop, fool, leave not thy home.”but still he heard not.
God sighed and complained,“Why does my servant wander to seek me, forsaking me?”
The Gardener 76
The fair was on before the temple. It had rained from the early morning and the day came to its end.
Brighter than all the gladness of the crowd was the bright smile of a girl who bought for a farthing a whistle of palm leaf.
The shrill joy of that whistle floated above all laughter and noise.
An endless throng of people came and jostled together. The road was muddy, the river in flood, the field under water in ceaseless rain.
Greater than all the troubles of the crowd was a little boy’s trouble—he had not a farthing to buy a painted stick.
His wistful eyes gazing at the shop made this whole meeting of men so pitiful.
The Gardener 77
The workman and his wife from the west country are busy digging to make bricks for the kiln.
Their little daughter goes to the landing-place by the river; there she has no end of scouring and scrubbing of pots and pans.
Her little brother, with shaven head and brown, naked, mud-covered limbs,follows after her and waits patiently on the high bank at her bidding.
She goes back home with the full pitcher poised on her head, the shining brass pot in her left hand, holding the child with her right—she the tiny servant of her mother, grave with the weight of the household cares.