On Tagore's classic English poem The Lonely Traveler
Rabindranath Tagore [India] Tagore
In the shadow of rainy July, with secret steps,
In rainy July, you took a mysterious step.
You walk, as silent as night, avoiding all the observers.
Silence like night eludes all observers.
I closed my eyes this morning,
Now dawn has closed my eyes.
Ignore the constant call of the howling east wind,
Ignore the relentless call of the howling east wind
The blue sky that never sleeps is covered with a thick veil.
A thick veil covers the ever-awake blue sky.
Woodlands have stopped their singing,
The song stopped in the forest.
Every door is closed.
Every household is closed.
You are a lonely passer-by in this desolate street.
On a lonely street, you lonely traveler.
Oh, my only friend, my best lover,
Oh, my only friend, my favorite.
My door is open-don't pass like a dream.
My door is open-please don't slip away from me like a dream.
On Tagore's classic English poem: I want nothing.
I didn't ask anything, but stood by the Woods behind the tree.
I just want to stand behind the trees in the forest.
Dawn's eyes are still tired, and dew is still in the air.
The eyes of dawn are still tired, and there is dew in the air.
The wet grass hung lazily in the mist on the ground.
The lazy breath of wet grass hangs in the mist on the ground.
Under the banyan tree, you milk with your hands, which is soft and fresh.
Under the banyan tree, you milk with your soft hands like cream.
I stood still.
I stood still.
I didn't come near you.
I didn't come near you.
With the gong of the temple, the sky woke up.
The sky woke up with the gong in the temple.
The dust raised on the road comes from the hooves of cattle.
The dust in the street fluttered under the driven cow's hoof.
Women came from the river, with gurgling water pots on their hips.
Women came from the river with bubbling water bottles on their waists.
Your bracelet jingled and the foam overflowed the jar.
Your bracelet jingled and the foam overflowed the edge of the jar.
The morning passed slowly, and I didn't come near you.
The morning is getting dark, and I'm not by your side.
A classic English poem about Tagore: Life is like a summer flower * * * Tagore * * *
Life, wasting time and time again and turning off the lights.
Frivolous and tireless
one
I heard echoes, from the valley and the heart.
Open to the lonely soul reaping with sickle.
Repeat loudly, and repeat happiness.
Finally swaying in the desert oasis
I believe I am.
Born as a bright summer flower
Don't wither the undefeated fiery demon rule
Heart rate and breathing to bear this burdensome load
Boring
two
I heard music, from the moon and the corpse.
Assist extreme aesthetic bait to capture the mystery.
Full of intense life, but also full of purity.
There are always memories on the whole earth.
I believe I am.
Died of the quiet beauty of autumn leaves
Sheng is not chaos, * * * ready gestures.
Even Wilt proudly kept the muscles of the bone Qing Feng.
mysterious
three
I hear love, I believe in love.
Love is a pool of struggling blue-green algae.
Like a bleak micro-explosive wind
Flowing through my veins
Years in faith
four
I believe everyone can hear you.
Even a premonition of separation, I met another self.
Some can't grasp the opportunity.
Walking east and west, leaving Gu, the dead will never come back.
Look, the hairpin flowers on my head are blooming all the way.
Often miss some, but also deeply touched by the wind, frost, snow or rain.
five
Prajna paramita, coming right away
Life is like a summer flower and death is like an autumn leaf
What do you care about having?
Life is frivolous again and again.
Frivolous and tireless
-inscription
one
I hear echoes, from the valley and the heart.
Harvesting an empty soul with a lonely sickle
Repeated refusal, repeated happiness.
There are swaying oases in the desert.
I believe in myself.
Born like bright summer flowers
Without fear, the devil is like fire.
Bear the burden of heartbeat and breathing.
Enjoy it forever
two
I hear music, from moonlight and body.
Assist extreme bait to capture ethereal beauty.
Life is full of intense and naive.
There are always memories throughout the world.
I believe in myself.
Death is like a beautiful autumn leaf.
Don't be full of confusion and gestures.
Even if it withers, it will retain the pride of plump muscles and clear bones.
Extremely mysterious and profound
three
I hear love, and I believe in love.
Love is a struggling blue-green algae.
Like a sad wind
Through my bleeding veins
Belief in the garrison years
four
I believe I can hear everything.
Even foresee separation and meet another self.
And some moments are impossible to grasp.
No matter east or west, what is lost will never come back.
Look at my hairpins, they are blooming all the way.
I missed some frequently and was deeply moved by wind, frost, rain and snow.
five
Prajna paramita, let me know.
Life is like summer flowers and death is like autumn leaves.
What do you care about having?