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The Gardener 4
Ah me； why did they build my house by the road to the market town？
They moor their laden boats near my trees。
They e and go and wander at their will。
I sit and watch them； my time wears on。
Turn them away I cannot。 And thus my days pass by。
Night and day their steps sound by my door。
Vainly I cry； “I do not know you。”
Some of them are known to my fingers； some to my nostrils； the blood in my veins seems to know them； and some are known to my dreams。
Turn them away I cannot。 I call them and say； “e to my house whoever chooses。 Yes； e。”
In the morning the bell rings in the temple。
They e with their baskets in their hands。
Their feet are rosy red。 The early light of dawn is on their faces。
Turn them away I cannot。 I call them and I say； “e to my garden to gather flowers。 e hither。”
In the mid…day the gong sounds at the palace gate。
I know not why they leave their work and linger near my hedge。
The flowers in their hair are pale and faded； the notes are languid in their flutes。
Turn them away I cannot。 I call them and say；“The shade is cool under my trees。 e； friends。”
At night the crickets chirp in the woods。
Who is it that es slowly to my door and gently knocks？
I vaguely see the face； not a word is spoken； the stillness of the sky is all around。
Turn away my silent guest I cannot。 I look at the face through the dark； and hours of dreams pass by。
The Gardener 5
I am restless。 I am athirst for far…away things。
My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance。
O Great Beyond； O the keen call of thy flute！
I forget； I ever forget； that I have no wings to fly； that I am bound in this spot evermore。
I am eager and wakeful； I am a stranger in a strange land。
Thy breath es to me whispering an impossible hope。
Thy tongue is known to my heart as its very own。
O Far…to…seek； O the keen call of thy flute！
I forget； I ever forget； that I know not the way； that I have not the winged horse。
I am listless； I am a wanderer in my heart。
In the sunny haze of the languid hours； what vast vision of thine takes shape in the blue of the sky！
O Farthest end； O the keen call of thy flute！
I forget； I ever forget； that the gates are shut everywhere in the house where I dwell alone！
The Gardener 6
The tame bird was in a cage； the free bird was in the forest。
They met when the time came； it was a decree of fate。
The free bird cries； “O my love； let us fly to wood。”
The cage bird whispers； “e hither； let us both live in the cage。”
Says the free bird； “Among bars； where is there room to spread one’s wings？”
“Alas；”cries the cage bird； “I should not know where to sit perched in the sky。”
The free bird cries； “My darling； sing the songs of the woodlands。”
The cage bird says； “Sit by my side； I’ll teach you the speech of the earned。”
The forest bird cries； “No； ah no！ Songs can never be taught。”
The cage bird says； “Alas for me； I know not the songs of the woodlands。”
Their love is intense with longing； but they never can fly wing to wing。
Through the bars of the cage they look； and vain is their wish to know each other。
They flutter their wings in yearning； and sing； “e closer； my love！”
The free bird cries； “It cannot be； I fear the closed doors of the cage。”
The cage bird whispers； “Alas； my wings are powerless and dead。”
园丁集 第九章（1）
The Gardener 7
O mother； the young Prince is to pass by our door；—how can I attend to my work this morning？
Show me how to braid up my hair； tell me what garment to put on。
Why do you look at me amazed； mother？
I know well he will not glance up once at my window； I know he will pass out of my sight in the twinkling of an eye； only the vanishing strain of the flute will e sobbing to me from afar。
But the young Prince will pass by our door； and I will put on my best for the moment。
O mother； the young Prince did pass by our door； and the morning sun flashed from his chariot。
I swept aside the veil from my face； I tore the ruby chain from my neck and flung it in his path。
Why do you look at me amazed； mother？
I know well he did not pick up my chain； I know it was crushed under his wheels leaving a red stain upon the dust； and no one knows what my gift was nor to whom。
But the young Prince did pass by our door； and I flung the jewel from my breast before his path。
The Gardener 8
When the lamp went out by my bed I woke up with the early birds。
I sat at my open window with a fresh wreath on my loose hair。
The young traveller came along the road in the rosy mist of the morning。
A pearl chain was on his neck； and the sun’s rays fell on his crown。
He stopped before my door and asked me with an eager cry； “Where is she？”
For very shame I could not say； “She is I； young traveller； she is I。”
It was dusk and the lamp was not lit。
I was listlessly braiding my hair。
The young traveller came on his chariot in the glow of the setting sun。
His horses were foaming at the mouth； and there was dust on his garment。
He alighted at my door and asked in a tired voice；“Where is she？”
For very shame I could not say； “She is I； weary traveller； she is I。”
It is an April night。 The lamp is burning in my room。
The breeze of the south es gently。 The noisy parrot sleeps in its cage。
My bodice is of the colour of the peacock’s throat； and my mantle is green as young grass。
I sit upon the floor at the window watching the deserted street。
Through the dark night I keep humming； “She is I； despairing traveller； she is I。”
The Gardener 9
When I go alone at night to my love…tryst； birds do not sing； the wind does not stir； the houses on both sides of the street stand silent。
It is my own anklets that grow loud at every step and I am ashamed。
When I sit on my balcony and listen for his footsteps； leaves do not rustle on the trees； and the water is still in the river like the sword on the knees of a sentry fallen asleep。
It is my own heart that beats wildly—I do not know how to quiet it。
When my love es and sits by my side； when my body trembles and my eyelids droop； the night darkens； the wind blows out the lamp； and the clouds draw veils over the stars。
It is the jewel at my own breast that shines and gives light。 I do not know how to hide it。
The Gardener 10
园丁集 第九章（2）
Let your work be； bride。 Listen； the guest has e。
Do you hear； he is gently shaking the chain which fastens the door？
See that your anklets make no loud noise； and that your step is not over…hurried at meeting him。
Let your work be； bride； the guest has e in the evening。
No； it is not the ghostly wind； bride； do not be frightened。
It is the full moon on a night of April； shadows are pale in the courtyard； the sky overhead is bright。
Draw your veil over your face if you must； carry the lamp to the door if you fear。
No； it is not the ghostly wind； bride； do not be frightened。
Have no word with him if you are shy； stand aside by the door when you meet him。
If he asks you questions； and if you wish to； you can lower your eyes in silence。
Do not let your bracelets jingle when； lamp in hand； you lead him in。
Have no word with him if you are shy。
Have you not finished your work yet； bride？ Listen； the guest has e。
Have you not lit the lamp in the cowshed？
Have you not got ready the offering basket for the evening service？
Have you not put the red lucky mark at the parting of your hair； and done your toilet for the night？
O bride； do you hear； the guest has e？
Let your work be！
The Gardener 11
e as you are； do not loiter over your toilet。
If your braided hair has loosened； if the parting of your hair be not straight； if the ribbons of your bodice be not fastened； do not mind。
e as you are； do not loiter over your toilet。
e； with quick steps over the grass。
If the raddle e from your feet because of the dew； if the rings of bells upon your feet slacken； if pearls drop out of your chain； do not mind。
e，with quick steps over the grass。
Do you see the clouds wrapping the sky？
Flocks of cranes fly up from the further river…bank and fitful gusts of wind rush over the heath。
The anxious cattle run to their stalls in the village。
Do you see the clouds wrapping the sky？
In vain you light your toilet lamp—it flickers and goes out in the wind。
Who can know that your eyelids have not been touched with lamp…black？ For your eyes are darker than rain…clouds。
In vain you light your toilet lamp—it goes out。
e as you are； do not loiter over your toilet。
If the wreath is not woven； who cares； if the wrist…chain has not been linked； let it be。
The sky is overcast with clouds—it is late。
e as you are； do not loiter over your toilet。
The Gardener 12
If you would be busy and fill your pitcher； e； O e to my lake。
The water will cling round your feet and babble its secret。
The shadow of the ing rain is on the sands； and the clouds hang low upon the blue lines of the trees like the heavy hair above your eyebrows。
I know well the rhythm of your steps； they are beating in my heart。
e； O e to my lake； if you must fill your pitcher。
If you would be idle and sit listless and let your pitcher float on the water； e； O e to my lake。
园丁集 第九章（3）
The grassy slope is green； and the wild flowers beyond number。
Your thoughts will stray out of your dark eyes like birds from their nests。
Your veil will drop to your feet。
e； O e to my lake if you must sit idle。
If you would leave off your play and dive in the water； e；O e to my lake。
Let your blue mantle lie on the shore； the blue water will cover you and hide you。
The waves will stand at tiptoe to kiss your neck and whisper in your ears。
e； O e to my lake； if you would dive in the water。
If you must be mad and leap to your death； e； O e to my lake。
It is cool and fathomlessly deep。
It is dark like a sleep that is dreamless。
There in its depths nights and days are one； and songs are silence。
e； O e to my lake； if you would plunge to your death。
The Gardener 13
I asked nothing； only stood at the edge of the wood behind the tree。
Languor was still upon the eyes of the dawn； and the dew in the air。
The lazy smell of the damp grass hung in the thin mist above the earth。
Under the banyan tree you were milking the cow with your hands；tender and fresh as butter。
And I was standing still。
I did not say a word。 It was the bird that sang unseen from the thicket。
The mango tree was shedding its flowers upon the village road； and the bees came humming one by one。
On the side of the pond the gate of Shiva’s temple was opened and the worshipper had begun his chants。
With the vessel on your lap you were milking the cow。
I stood with my empty can。
I did not e near you。
The sky woke with the sound of the gong at the temple。
The dust was raised in the road from the hoofs of the driven cattle。
With the gurgling pitchers at their hips； women came from the river。
Your bracelets were jingling； and foam brimming over the jar。
The morning wore on and I did not e near you。
The Gardener 14
I was walking by the road； I do not know why； when the noonday was past and bamboo branches rustled in the wind。
The prone shadows with their out…stretched arms clung to the feet of the hurrying light。
The koels were weary of their songs。
I was walking by the road； I do not know why。
The hut by the side of the water is shaded by an overhanging tree。
Some one was busy with her work； and her bangles made music in the corner。
I stood before this hut； I know not why。
The narrow winding road crosses many a mustard field； and many a mango forest。
It passes by the temple of the village and the market at the river landing place。
I stopped by this hut； I do not know why。
Years ago it was a day of breezy March when the murmur of the spring was languorous； and mango blossoms were dropping on the dust。
The rippling water leapt and licked the brass vessel that stood on the landing step。
I think of that day of breezy March； I do not know why。
Shadows are deepening and cattle returning to their folds。
The light is grey upon the lonely meadows； and the villagers are waiting for the ferry at the bank。 。 想看书来
园丁集 第九章（4）
I slowly return upon my steps； I do not know why。
The Gardener 15
I run as a musk…deer runs in the shadow of the forest mad with his own perfume。
The night is the night of mid…May； the breeze is the breeze of the south。
I lose my way and I wander； I seek what I cannot get； I get what I do not seek。
From my heart es out and dances the image of my own desire。
The gleaming vision flits on。
I try to clasp it firml