(by Tagore)
If I become a golden flower, just for fun, growing on a tall branch, swaying in the wind with a smile, and dancing on the newly grown leaves, mom, will you know me?
If I become a golden flower, just for fun, growing on the high branches of that tree, swaying in the wind with a smile and dancing on the new leaves, mom, will you know me?
You will shout, "Baby, where are you?" I should laugh to myself and keep quiet.
If you yell, "Where are you, son?" I snickered there, but didn't say a word.
I should secretly open my petals and watch you work.
I will quietly open my petals and watch you work.
When you take a shower, put your wet hair on your shoulders, walk through the shadow of the golden tree, and walk to the small courtyard where you pray. You will notice the fragrance of flowers, but you don't know it comes from me.
When you take a shower, put your wet hair on your shoulders, walk past the golden flower shaded by green trees, and walk to the yard where you pray, you will smell the fragrance of this flower, but you don't know it comes from me.
After lunch, you sit at the window and read Ramayana. The shadow of the tree falls on your hair and knees. I should cast my little shadow on your page, where you read.
When you sit at the window and read Ramayana after lunch, the shadow of that tree falls on your hair and knees, and I will cast my little shadow on your page, where you are reading.
But can you guess that's your child's little shadow?
But can you guess that this is a small shadow of your child?
When you go to the cowshed with a lighted lamp in your hand in the evening. I should suddenly land on the earth again and become your own child again. Please tell me a story.
When you go to the cowshed with a lamp at dusk, I will suddenly fall to the ground again and become your child again. Please tell me a story.
"Where have you been, you naughty boy?"
"Where have you been, you bad boy?"
"I won't tell you, mom." That's what you and I will say then.
"I won't tell you, mom." That's what you and I were trying to say.
The world of childhood is ethereal and pure, maybe a little naughty, but the deep love and attachment to mother is innate.
Tagore became such a child in this poem "Golden Flower", playing with his mother in a unique way, innocent and cunning.
When I was a child, I first came into contact with this prose poem in a Chinese textbook and fell in love with it.
Not only because the children miss their mother, but also because the soft and clever words in the poem, like the breeze blowing in early summer, are refreshing.
For example, "dancing on the newly sprouted leaves", "opening my petals cunningly", "the shadow of the tree falls on your hair and legs" and so on.
Frames of vivid pictures are vividly displayed on paper, including the scene and rhythm of the story, as well as the rhythm and mystery of poetry.
The children in the poem, like the elves of nature, have magic power that the world has never noticed, and secretly play hide-and-seek with their mothers.
And the mother is gentle, loving and pious, even a little scolding, "Where have you been, you naughty child?" It must be full of love.
When naughty children proudly say "I won't tell you, mom", it is also a smile that makes readers laugh.
The love between parents and children is probably the most selfless and pure emotion in the world.
After my sister's little girl was born, I witnessed a small life change, from chaotic state to toddler, babbling and growing into a child.
Looking at her childish little voice shouting "Mom" over and over again, my sister's face was filled with happiness, and I really realized the inner connection between the child and the mother.
The little girl is less than two years old and is still in the stage of exploring the world. However, she will follow the simple instructions of adults and take small steps. When she is tired, sleepy and hungry, only her mother can coax her.
After becoming a mother, my sister has a special liking and has the strongest armor in the world since then.
The cycle of life is the most wonderful. Children who come to the world with tears grow up in their mother's arms, travel alone after full wings, and finally become parents, and truly understand the meaning of love in raising the next generation.
Occasionally, at a certain moment, when we are used to adulthood, can we go back to childhood, quietly become a golden flower and play hide-and-seek with our mother ~