On Tagore's English Poetry 1
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, as smooth as butter.
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.
Tagore's Theory of English Poetry II
patience
Tagore
If you don't talk
I will fill my heart with silence and endure it.
I'll keep quiet and wait
Like a starry night vigil.
It patiently lowered its head.
The morning will surely come,
Darkness will disappear,
The sound poured down in the golden stream.
Break through the sky
Then your words will spread their wings and fly
In the song of every bird's nest of mine,
And your melody
Will bloom in all my Woods.
keep one's patience
Tagore
If you don't talk,
I will fill my heart with your silence and endure it.
I will wait quietly,
Like a sleepless star in the dark,
The bow of patience.
Dawn will surely come,
Darkness will eventually pass away,
Your voice will flood into Jin Quan,
Cut through the sky.
At that time, your language,
Will grow wings and make sounds in every nest of mine,
Your sweet music,
Will bloom in my jungle flower.
On Tagore's English Poetry 3
I hear love, and 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
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
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.
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.
Prajna paramita, coming right away
Life is like a summer flower and death is like an autumn leaf
What do you care about having?
Prajna paramita, let me know.
Life is like summer flowers and death is like autumn leaves.
What do you care about having?