泰戈尔诗6

llhn123456

１９.“可能”问“不可能”道：“你住在什么地方呢？”它回答道：“在那无能为力者的梦境里。”　　　　　　　　　　
/ T  C# C1 Q! G7 {Asks the Possible to the Impossible,
3 R) i: g" Z3 r3 Y! ]$ kWhere is your dwelling-place?
In the dreams of the impotent, comes the answer.　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　
2 g- j/ G4 H/ f$ S7 _4 I２０.如果你把所有的错误都关在门外时，真理也要被关在门外面了。　　If you shut your door to all errors truth will be shut out.
% i3 w) b8 ^! R9 A7 f' w
  i( ^: {+ m* c+ {9 q# s( D# c２１.我听见有些东西在我心的忧闷后面萧萧作响，－－我不能看见它们。
* M* Y, h9 U8 J9 Q. II hear some rustle of things behind my sadness of heart,
---I cannot see them.
& \9 k! y9 \! q. D
２２.闲暇在动作时便是工作。静止的海水荡动时便成波涛。
4 W* m7 X& ^  c. p) n. H' M$ nLeisure in its activity is work.
The stillness of the sea stirs in waves.

& v! P: b& \" t. F, G1 ~２３.绿叶恋爱时便成了花。花崇拜时便成了果实。
& ~2 C. D9 v$ N( E% z0 w2 HThe leaf becomes flower when it loves.
! J* a1 @5 m6 S! sThe flower becomes fruit when it worships.

7 B. _, ?' z  P$ A２４.埋在地下的树根使树枝产生果实，却不要什么报酬。
The roots below the earth claim no rewards for making the　branches　fruitful.

! D7 K+ Z5 L" K7 l/ U２５.阴雨的黄昏，风无休止地吹着。我看着摇曳的树枝，想念万物的伟大。
8 e, w1 b# g# T$ ~/ U4 n: N; XThis rainy evening the wind is restless.
I look at the swaying branches and ponder over the greatness of
( ^2 l' K  v. |0 N$ Call things.

２６.子夜的风雨，如一个巨大的孩子，在不合时宜的黑夜里醒来，开始游戏和喧闹。
, e! G0 W7 ]5 x/ E' ]Storm of midnight, like a giant child awakened in the untimely dark,has begun to play and shout.

* B3 r* y6 f/ k' w２７.海呀，你这暴风雨的孤寂的新妇呀，你虽掀起波浪追随你的情人，但是无用呀。
Thou raisest thy waves vainly to follow thy lover, O sea, thou
lonely bride of the storm.
7 J! o4 D6 {1 M  \) @
２８.文字对工作说道：“我惭愧我的空虚。”
+ c9 s- z( w" [  ]) n7 N工作对文字说道：“当我看见你的时，我便知道我是怎样地贫乏了。”
I am ashamed of my emptiness, said the Word to the Work.
9 B% S3 n; K5 r6 t( vI know how poor I am when I see you, said the Work to the Word.
) M6 ~5 V" T5 ?( ]+ g8 D
２９.时间是变化的财富。时钟模仿它，却只有变化而无财富。
Time is the wealth of change, but the clock in its parody makes
/ R9 g% J% v- w5 H8 w+ dit mere change and no wealth.

! Q, q$ M0 y1 e1 Z4 W３０.真理穿了衣裳，觉得事实太拘束了。
! P6 Q, q$ K$ S& W. m  h5 Q4 w在想象中，她却转动得很舒畅。
) W, Z: [% T" q  Z' C1 g  UTruth in her dress finds facts too tight.
In fiction she moves with ease.