Bing Xin translated by Tagore
1
You make me immortal, which is your happiness. This fragile cup, you keep emptying it, constantly
The earth is full of new life.
This little reed flute, you carry it over mountains and valleys, and blow out the music of eternal faith from the flute tube.
Under the immortal touch of your hands, my little heart melts into boundless happiness, emitting unspeakable things.
Tone of words
Your infinite gift is only poured into my little hand. Time has passed, you are still pouring, and I still have it in my hand.
Need to fill in the gaps.
2
When you ordered me to sing, my heart seemed to explode with pride. I looked up at your face and tears welled up in my eyes.
In my eyes.
All the astringency and contradictions in my life have melted into a sweet and soft homonym-
My praise is like a happy bird flapping its wings across the ocean.
I know you like my singing. I know that only because I am a singer can I walk in front of you.
I touched your feet with the far-reaching wings of my singing, which I never dreamed I would touch.
Drunk in the singing, I forgot myself. You are my master, but I call you a friend.