拉宾德拉纳特·泰戈尔
Supposing I became a champa flower, just for fun, and grew on a branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with laughter and danced upon the newly budded leaves, would you know me, mother?
You would call, “Baby, where are you?” and I should laugh to myself and keep quite quiet.
I should slyly open my petals and watch you at your work.
When after your bath, with wet hair spread on your shoulders, you walked through the shadow of the champa tree to the little court where you say your prayers, you would notice the scent of the flower, but not know that it came from me.
When after the midday meal you sat at the window reading Ramayana, and the trees shadow fell over your hair and your lap, I should fling my wee little shadow on to the page of your book, just where you were reading.
But would you guess that it was the tiny shadow of your little child?
When in the evening you went to the cow-shed with the lighted lamp in your hand, I should suddenly drop on to the earth again and be your own baby once more, and beg you to tell me a story.
“Where have you been, you naughty child?”
“I wont tell you, mother.” Thats what you and I would say then.
假如我变成一朵金色花,为了好玩,长在那棵树的高枝上,笑呵呵地在风中摇摆,又在新生的树叶上跳舞,妈妈,你会认识我吗?
你要是叫道:“孩子,你在哪里呀?”我暗暗地在那里傻笑,却一声儿不响。
我要悄悄地開放花瓣儿,看着你工作。
当你沐浴后,湿发披在两肩,穿过金色花的林荫,走到你做祷告的小庭院时,你会嗅到这花香,却不知道这香气是从我身上来的。
当你吃过午饭,坐在窗前读《罗摩衍那》,那棵树的阴影落在你的头发与膝上时,我便要将我小小的影子投在你的书页上,正投在你所读的地方。
但是你会猜得出这就是你孩子的小影子吗?
当你黄昏时拿了灯到牛棚里去,我便要突然地再落到地上来,又成了你的孩子,求你讲故事给我听。
“你到哪里去了,你这调皮孩子?”
“我不告诉你,妈妈。”这就是你和我那时所要说的话了。