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 fower of the night.
Stand still， O Beautiful End， for a moment， and say your last words in silence.
I bow you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way.
62
在梦境的朦胧小路上，我去寻找我前生的爱。
她的房子是在冷静的街尾。
在晚风中，她爱养的孔雀在架上昏睡，鸽子在自己的角落里沉默着。
她把灯放在门边，站在我面前。
她抬起一双大眼望着我的脸，无言地问道：“你好吗，我的朋友？”
我想回答，但是我们的语言迷失而又忘却了。
我想来想去，怎么也想不起我们叫什么名字。
眼泪在她眼中闪光，她向我伸出右手。我握住她的手静默地站着。
我们的灯在晚风中颤摇着熄灭了。
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 come to my mind.
Tears shone in her eyes. She held up her right hand to me.I took it and stood silent.
Our lamp had fickered in the evening breeze and died.
63
行路人，你必须走吗？
夜是静寂的，黑暗在树林上昏睡。
我们的凉台上灯火辉煌，繁花鲜美，青春的眼睛还清醒着。
你离开的时间到了吗？
行路人，你必须走吗？
我们不曾用恳求的手臂来抱住你的双足。
你的门开着。你的立在门外的马，也已上了鞍鞯。
如果我们想拦住你的去路，也只是用我们的歌曲。
如果我们曾想挽留你，也只用我们的眼睛。
行路人，我们没有希望留住你，我们只有眼泪。
在你眼里发光的是什么样的不灭之火？
在你血管中奔流的是什么样的不宁的热力？
从黑暗中有什么召唤在引动你？
你从天上的星星中，念到什么可怕的咒语，就是黑夜沉默而异样地走进你心中时，带来的那个密封的秘密的消息？
如果你不喜欢那热闹的集会，如果你需要安静，困乏的心呵，我们就吹灭灯火，停止琴声。
我们将在风叶声中静坐在黑暗里，倦乏的月亮将在你窗上洒上苍白的光辉。
呵，行路人，是什么不眠的精灵从中夜的心中和你接触了呢？
Traveller， must you go？The night is still and the darkness swoons upon the forest.
The lamps are bright in our balcony， the fowers all fresh， and the youthful eyes still awake.
Is the time for your parting come？
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 fre 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 shall put our lamps out and silence our harps.
We shall sit still in the dark in the rustle of leaves， the tired moon will shed pale rays on your window.
O traveller， what sleepless spirit has touched you from the heart of the midnight？
64
我在大路灼热的尘土上消磨了一天。
现在，在晚凉中我敲着一座小庙的门。这庙已经荒废倒塌了。
一棵愁苦的菩提树，从破墙的裂缝里伸展出饥饿的爪根。
从前曾有过路人到这里来洗疲乏的脚。
他们在新月的微光中在院里摊开席子，坐着谈论异地的风光。
早起他们精神恢复了，鸟声使他们欢悦，友爱的花儿在道边向他们点首。
但是当我来的时候，没有灯在等待我。
只有残留的灯烟熏的墨迹，像盲人的眼睛，从墙上瞪视着我。
萤虫在涸池边的草里闪烁，竹影在荒芜的小径上摇曳。
我在一天之末，做了没有主人的客人。
在我面前的是漫漫的长夜，我疲倦了。
I spent my day on the scorching hot dust of the road.
Now， in the cool of the evening， I knock at the door of the inn. It is deserted and in ruins.
A grim ashath tree spreads its hungry clutching roots through the gaping fssures of the walks.
Days have been when wayfarers came here to wash their weary feet.
They spread their mats in the courtyard in the dim light of the early moon， and sat and talked of strange lands.
They woke refreshed in the morning when birds made them glad， and friendly fowers nodded their heats at them from the wayside.
But no lighted lamp awaited me when I came here.
The black smudges of smoke left by many a forgotten evening lamp stare， like blind eyes， from the wall.
Fireflies flit in the bush near the dried-up pond， and bamboo branches fing their shadows on the grass-grown path.
I am the guest of no one at the end of my day.
The long night is before me， and I am tired.
65
又是你呼唤我吗？
夜来到了，困乏像爱的恳求用双臂围抱住我。
你叫我了吗？
我已把整天的工夫给了你，残忍的主妇，你还定要掠夺我的夜晚吗？
万事都有个终结，黑暗的静寂是个人独有的。
你的声音定要穿透黑暗来刺击我吗？
难道你门前的夜晚没有音乐和睡眠吗？
难道那翅翼不响的星辰，从来不攀登你的不仁之塔的上空吗？
难道你园中的花朵，永不在绵软的死亡中坠地吗？
你定要叫我吗，你这不安静的人？
那就让爱的愁眼，徒然地因着盼望而流泪。
让灯盏在空屋里点着。
让渡船载那些困乏的工人回家。
我把梦想丢下，来奔赴我的召唤。
Is that your call again？
The evening has come. Weariness clings round me like the arms of entreating love.
Do you call me？
I had given all my day to you， cruel mistress， must you also rob me of my night？
Somewhere there is an end to everything， and the loneness of the dark is one's own.
Must your voice cut through it and smite me？
Has the evening no music of sleep at your gate？
Do the silent-winged stars never climb the sky above your pitiless tower？
Do the fowers never drop on the dust in soft death in your garden？
Must you call me， you unquiet one？
Then let the sad eyes of love vainly watch and weep.
Let the lamp burn in the lonely house.
Let the ferry-boat take the weary labourers to their home.
I leave behind my dreams and I hasten to your call.
66
一个流浪的疯子在寻找点金石。他褐黄的头发乱蓬蓬地蒙着尘土，身体瘦得像个影子。他双唇紧闭，就像他的紧闭的心门。他烧红的眼睛就像萤火虫的灯亮在寻找他的爱侣。
无边的海在他面前怒吼。
喧哗的波浪，在不停地谈论那隐藏的珠宝，嘲笑那不懂得它们意思的愚人。
也许现在他不再有希望了，但是他不肯休息，因为寻求变成他的生命——
就像海洋永远向天伸臂要求不可得到的东西——
就像星辰绕着圈走，却要寻找一个永不能到达的目标——
在那寂寞的海边，那头发垢乱的疯子，也仍旧徘徊着寻找点金石。
有一天，一个村童走上来问：“告诉我，你腰上的那条金链是从哪里来的呢？”
疯子吓了一跳——那条本来是铁的链子真的变成金的了。这不是一场梦，但是他不知道是什么时候变成的。
他狂乱地敲着自己的前额——什么时候，呵，什么时候在他的不知不觉之中得到成功了呢？
拾起小石去碰碰那条链子，然后不看看变化与否，又把它扔掉，这已成了习惯。就是这样，这疯子找到了又失掉了那块点金石。
太阳西沉，天空灿金。
疯子沿着自己的脚印走回，去寻找他失去的珍宝。他气力尽消，身体弯曲，他的心像连根拔起的树一样，萎垂在尘土里了。
A wandering madman was seeking the touchstone， with matted locks， tawny and dust-laden， and body worn to a shadow， his lips tight-pressed， like the shut-up doors of his heart， his burning eyes like the lamp of a glow-worm seeking its mate.
Before him the endless ocean roared.
The garrulous waves ceaselessly talked of hidden treasures， mocking the ignorance that knew not their meaning.
Maybe he now had no hope remaining， yet he would not rest， for the search had become his life， ——
Just as the ocean for ever lifts its arms to the sky for the unattainable—