我无法从春天的财富里为你送去一朵鲜花，也无法从远方的云里为你送去一缕金霞。
打开门向四周看看。
从你繁花盛开的园中采集百年前消失了的鲜花的芬芳记忆。
在你心的欢乐里，愿你感受吟唱春日清晨的鲜活的喜悦，让欢快的声音穿越一百年的时光。
园丁集 第八章（1）
The Gardener 1
SERVANT： Have mercy upon your servant； my queen！
QUEEN： The assembly is over and my servants are all gone。 Why do you e at this late hour？
SERVANT： When you have finished with others； that is my time。 I e to ask what remains for your last servant to do。
QUEEN： What can you expect when it is too late？
SERVANT： Make me the gardener of your flower garden。
QUEEN： What folly is this？
SERVANT： I will give up my other work。 I will throw my swords and lances down in the dust。 Do not send me to distant courts； do not bid me undertake new conquests。 But make me the gardener of your flower garden。
QUEEN： What will your duties be？
SERVANT： The service of your idle ； where your feet will be greeted with praise at every step by the flowers eager for ； where the early evening moon will struggle to kiss your skirt through the leaves。
I will replenish with scented oil the lamp that burns by your bedside； and decorate your footstool with sandalwood and saffron paste in wondrous designs。
QUEEN： What will you have for your reward？
SERVANT： To be allowed to hold your little fists like tender lotus…buds and slip flower chains over your wrists； to tinge the soles of your feet with the red juice of ashoka petals and kiss away the speck of dust that may chance to linger there。
QUEEN： Your prayers are granted； my servant； you will be the gardener of my flower garden。
The Gardener 2
“Ah； poet； the evening draws near； your hair is turning grey。
“Do you in your lonely musing hear the message of the hereafter？”
“It is evening；” the poet said； “and I am listening because someone may call from the village； late though it be。
“I watch if young straying hearts meet together； and two pairs of eager eyes beg for music to break their silence and speak for them。
“Who is there to weave their passionate songs； if I sit on the shore of life and contemplate death and the beyond？
“The early evening star disappears。
“The glow of a funeral pyre slowly dies by the silent river。
“Jackals cry in chorus from the courtyard of the deserted house in the light of the worn…out moon。
“If some wanderer； leaving home； e here to watch the night and with bowed head listen to the murmur of the darkness； who is there to whisper the secrets of life into his ears； if I shutting my doors； should try to free myself from mortal bonds？
“It is a trifle that my hair is turning grey。
“I am ever as young or as old as the youngest and the oldest of this village。
“Some have smiles； sweet and simple； and some a sly twinkle in their eyes。
“Some have tears that well up in the daylight； and others tears that are hidden in the gloom。
“They all have need for me； and I have no time to brood over the afterlife。
“I am of an age with each； what matter if my hair turns grey？”书 包 网 txt小说上传分享
园丁集 第八章（2）
The Gardener 3
In the morning I cast my net into the sea。
I dragged up from the dark abyss things of strange aspect and strange beauty—some shone like a smile； some glistened like tears； and some were flushed like the cheeks of a bride。
When with the day’s burden I went home； my love was sitting in the garden idly tearing the leaves of a flower。
I hesitated for a moment； and then placed at her feet all that I had dragged up； and stood silent。
She glanced at them and said；“What strange things are these？ I know not of what use they are！”
I bowed my head in shame and thought；“ Have not fought for these； I did not buy them in the market； they are not fit gifts for her。”
Then the whole night through I flung them one by one into the street。
In the morning travellers came； they picked them up and carried them into far countries。
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