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 firmly； it eludes me and leads me astray。
I seek what I cannot get； I get what I do not seek。
The Gardener 16
Hands cling to hands and eyes linger on eyes： thus begins the record of our hearts。
It is the moonlit night of March； the sweet smell of henna is in the air； my flute lies on the earth neglected and your garland of flowers in unfinished。
This love between you and me is simple as a song。
Your veil of the saffron colour makes my eyes drunk。
The jasmine wreath that you wove me thrills to my heart like praise。
It is a game of giving and withholding； revealing and screening again； some smiles and some little shyness； and some sweet useless struggles。
This love between you and me is simple as a song。
No mystery beyond the present； no striving for the impossible； no shadow behind the charm； no groping in the depth of the dark。
This love between you and me is simple as a song。
We do not stray out of all words into the ever silent； we do not raise our hands to the void for things beyond hope。
It is enough what we give and we get。
We have not crushed the joy to the utmost to wring from it the wine of pain。
This love between you and me is simple as a song。
The Gardener 17
The yellow bird sings in their tree and makes my heart dance with gladness。
We both live in the same village； and that is our one piece of joy。
Her pair of pet lambs e to graze in the shade of our garden trees。
If they stray into our barley field； I take them up in my arms。
The name of our village is Khanjanu； and Anjanu they call our river。
My name is known to all the village； and her name is Ranjanu。
Only one field lies between us。
Bees that have hived in our grove go to seek honey in theirs。
Flowers launched from their landing…stairs e floating by the stream where we bathe。
Baskets of dried kusm flowers e from their fields to our market。
The name of our village is Khanjanu； and Anjanu they call our river。
My name is known to all the village； and her name is Ranjanu。
The lane that winds to their house is fragrant in the spring with mango flowers。
When their linseed is ripe for harvest the hemp is in bloom in our field。
The stars that smile on their cottage send us the same twinkling look。
The rain that floods their tank makes glad our kadam forest。
The name of our village is Khanjanu； and Anjanu they call our river。
My name is known to all the village； and her name is Ranjanu。
园丁集 第十章（1）
The Gardener 18
When the two sisters go to fetch water； they e to this spot and they smile。
They must be aware of somebody who stands behind the trees whenever they go to fetch water。
The two sisters whisper to each other when they pass this spot。
They must have guessed the secret of that somebody who stands behind the trees whenever they go to fetch water。
Their pitchers lurch suddenly； and water spills when they reach this spot。
They must have found out that somebody’s heart is beating who stands behind the trees whenever they go to fetch water。
The two sisters glance at each other when they e to this spot； and they smile。
There is a laughter in their swift…stepping feet； which makes confusion in somebody’s mind who stands behind the trees whenever they go to fetch water。
The Gardener 19
You walked by the riverside path with the full pitcher upon your hip。
Why did you swiftly turn your face and peep at me through your fluttering veil？
That gleaming look from the dark came upon me like a breeze that sends a shiver through the rippling water and sweeps away to the shadowy shore。
It came to me like the bird of the evening that hurriedly flies across the lampless room from the one open window to the other； and disappears in the night。
You are hidden as a star behind the hills； and I am a passer…by upon the road。
But why did you stop for a moment and glance at my face through your veil while you walked by the riverside path with the full pitcher upon your hip？
The Gardener 20
Day after day he es and goes away。
Go， and give him a flower from my hair； my friend。
If he asks who was it that sent it； I entreat you do not tell him my name—for he only es and goes away。
He sits on the dust under the tree。
Spread there a seat with flowers and leaves； my friend。
His eyes are sad； and they bring sadness to my heart。
He does not speak what he has in mind； he only es and goes away。
The Gardener 21
Why did he choose to e to my door； the wandering youth； when the day dawned？
As I e in and out I pass by him every time； and my eyes are caught by his face。
I know not if I should speak to him or keep silent。 Why did he choose to e to my door？
The cloudy nights in July are dark； the sky is soft blue in the autumn； the spring days are restless with the south wind。
He weaves his songs with fresh tunes every time。
I turn from my work and my eyes fill with the mist。 Why did he choose t