Not a rose did I pluck。
Yes； my feet were tired； and the shower of rain came down。
The winds cried out among the swaying bamboo branches。
The clouds ran across the sky as though in the flight from defeat。
My feet were tired。
I know not what you thought of me or for whom you were waiting at your door。
Flashes of lightning dazzled your watching eyes。
How could I know that you could see me where I stood in the dark？
I know not what you thought of me。
The day is ended； and the rain has ceased for a moment。
I leave the shadow of the tree at the end of your garden and this seat on the grass。
It has darkened； shut your door； I go my way。
The day is ended。
The Gardener 54
Where do you hurry with your basket this late evening when the marketing is over？
They all have e home with their burdens； the moon peeps from above the village trees。
The echoes of the voices calling for the ferry run across the dark water to the distant swamp where wild ducks sleep。
Where do you hurry with your basket when the marketing is over？
Sleep has laid her fingers upon the eyes of the earth。
The nests of the crows have bee silent； and the murmurs of the bamboo leaves are silent。
The labourers home from their fields spread their mats in the courtyards。
Where do you hurry with your basket when the marketing is over？
The Gardener 55
It was mid…day when you went away。
The sun was strong in the sky。
I had done my work and sat alone on my balcony when you went away。
Fitful gusts came winnowing through the smells of many distant fields。
The doves cooed tireless in the shade； and a bee strayed in my room humming the news of many distant fields。。 最好的txt下载网
园丁集 第十一章（4）
The village slept in the noonday heat。 The road lay deserted。
In sudden fits the rustling of the leaves rose and died。
I gazed at the sky and wove in the blue the letters of a name I had known； while the village slept in the noonday heat。
I had forgotten to braid my hair。 The languid breeze played with it upon my cheek。
The river ran unruffled under the shady bank。
The lazy white clouds did not move。
I had forgotten to braid my hair。
It was mid…day when you went away。
The dust of the road was hot and the fields panting。
The doves cooed among the dense leaves。
I was alone in my balcony when you went away。
The Gardener 56
I was one among many women busy with the obscure daily tasks of the household。
Why did you single me out and bring me away from the cool shelter of our mon life？
Love unexpressed is sacred。 It shines like gems in the gloom of the hidden
Ah； you broke through the cover of my heart and dragged my trembling love into the open place； destroying for ever the shady corner where it hid its nest。
The other women are the same as ever。
No one has peeped into their inmost being； and they themselves know not their own secret。
Lightly they smile； and weep； chatter； and work。 Daily they go to the temple； light their lamps； and fetch water from the river。
I hoped my love would be saved from the shivering shame of the shelterless； but you turn your face away。
Yes； your path lies open before you； but you have cut off my return； and left me stripped naked before the world with its lidless eyes staring night and day。
The Gardener 57
I plucked your flower； O world！
I pressed it to my heart and the thorn pricked。
When the day waned and it darkened； I found that the flower had faded； but the pain remained。
More flowers will e to you with perfume and pride； O world！
But my time for flower…gathering is over； and through the dark night I have not my rose； only the pain remains。
The Gardener 58
One morning in the flower garden a blind girl came to offer me a flower chain in the cover of a lotus leaf。
I put it round my neck； and tears came to my eyes。
I kissed her and said；“You are blind even as the flowers are。
You yourself know not how beautiful is your gift。”
The Gardener 59
O woman； you are not merely the handiwork of God； but also of men；
these are ever endowing you with beauty from their hearts。
Poets are weaving for you a web with threads of golden imagery；
painters are giving your form ever new immortality。
The sea gives its pearls； the mines their gold； the summer gardens their flowers to deck you； to cover you； to make you more precious。
The desire of men’s hearts has shed its glory over your youth。
You are one half woman and one half dream。
The Gardener 60
Amidst the rush and roar of life； O Beauty； carved in stone； you stand mute and still； alone and aloof。
园丁集 第十一章（5）
Great Time sits enamoured at your feet and murmurs：
“Speak； speak to me； my love； speak； my bride！”
But your speech is shut up in stone； O Immovable Beauty！
The Gardener 61
Peace； my heart； let the time for the parting be sweet。
Let it not be a death but pleteness。
Let love melt into memory and pain into songs。
Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings over the nest。
Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the night。
Stand still； O Beautiful End； for a moment； and say your last words in silence。
I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way。
The Gardener 62
In the dusky path of a dream I went to seek the love who was mine in a former life。
Her house stood at the end of a desolate street。
In the evening breeze her pet peacock sat drowsing on its perch； and the pigeons were silent in their corner。
She set her lamp down by the portal and stood before me。
She raised her large eyes to my face and mutely asked；“Are you well； my friend？”
I tried to answer； but our language had been lost and forgotten。
I thought and thought； our names would not e to my mind。
Tears shone in her eyes。 She held up her right hand to me。 I took it and stood silent。
Out lamp had flickered in the evening breeze and died。
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园丁集 第十二章（1）
The Gardener 63
Traveller； must you go？
The night is still and the darkness swoons upon the forest。
The lamps are bright in our balcony； the flowers all fresh； and the youthful eyes still awake。
Is the time for your parting e？
Traveller； must you go？
We have not bound your feet with our entreating arms。
Your doors are open。 Your horse stands saddled at the gate。
If we have tried to bar your passage it was but with our songs。
Did we ever try to hold you back it was but with our eyes。
Traveller； we are helpless to keep you。 We have only our tears。
What quenchless fire glows in your eyes？
What restless fever runs in your blood？
What call from the dark urges you？
What awful incantation have you read among the stars in the sky； that with a sealed secret message the night entered your heart； silent and strange？
If you do not care for merry meetings； if you must have peace； weary heart； we sha