Come with your conch-shells sounding， come in the sleepless night.
Dress me with a crimson mantle， grasp my hand and take me.
Let your chariot be ready at my door with your horses neighing impatiently.
Raise my veil and look at my face proudly， O Death， my Death！
82
我们今夜要做“死亡”的游戏，我的新娘和我。
夜是深黑的，空中的云霾是翻腾的，波涛在海里咆哮。
我们离开梦的床榻，推门出去，我的新娘和我。
我们坐在秋千上，狂风从后面猛烈地推送我们。
我的新娘吓得又惊又喜，她颤抖着紧靠在我的胸前。
许多日子，我温存服侍她。
我替她铺一个花床，我关上门不让强烈的光射在她眼上。
我轻轻地吻她的嘴唇，软软地在她耳边低语，直到她困倦得半入昏睡。
她消失在模糊的无边甜柔的云雾之中。
我抚摸她，她没有反应；我的歌唱也不能把她唤醒。
今夜，风暴的召唤从旷野来到。
我的新娘颤抖着站起，她牵着我的手走了出来。
她的头发在风中飞扬，她的面纱飘动，她的花环在胸前窸窣作响。
死亡的推送把她摇晃活了。
我们面面相看，心心相印，我的新娘和我。
We are to play the game of death to-night， my bride and I.
The night is black， the clouds in the sky are capricious， and the waves are raving at sea.
We have left our bed of dreams， fung open the door and come out， my bride and I.
We sit upon a swing， and the storm winds give us a wild push from behind.
My bride and starts up with fear and delight， she trembles and clings to my breast.
Long have I served her tenderly.
I made for her a bed of fowers and I closed the doors to shut out the rude light from her eyes.
I kissed her gently on her lips and whispered softly in her ears till she half swooned in languor.
She was lost in the endless mist of vague sweetness.
She answered not to my touch， my songs filed to arouse her.
Tonight has come to us the call of the storm from the wild.
My bride has shivered and stood up， she has clasped my hand and come out.
Her hair is flying in the wind， her veil is fluttering， her garland rustles over her breast.
The push of death has swung her into life.
We are face to face and heart to heart， my bride and I.
83
她住在玉米地边的山畔，靠近那股嬉笑着流经古树的庄严的阴影的清泉。女人们提罐到这里装水，过客们在这里谈话休息。她每天随着潺潺的泉韵工作幻想。
有一天，一个陌生人从云中的山上下来；他的头发像醉蛇一样的纷乱。我们惊奇地问：“你是谁？”他不回答，只坐在喧闹的水边，沉默地望着她的茅屋。我们吓得心跳。到了夜里，我们都回家去了。
第二天早晨，女人们到杉树下的泉边取水，她们发现她茅屋的门开着，但是，她的声音没有了，她微笑的脸哪里去了呢？
空罐立在地上，她屋角的灯，油尽火灭了。没有人晓得在黎明以前她跑到哪里去了——那个陌生人也不见了。
到了五月，阳光渐强，冰雪化尽，我们坐在泉边哭泣。我们心里想：“她去的地方有泉水吗，在这炎热焦渴的天气中，她能到哪里去取水呢？”我们惶恐地对问：“在我们住的山外还有地方吗？”
夏天的夜里，微风从南方吹来；我坐在她的空屋里，没有点上的灯仍在那里立着。忽然间那座山峰，像帘幕拉开一样从我眼前消失了。“呵，那是她来了。你好吗，我的孩子？你快乐吗？在无遮的天空下，你有个阴凉的地方吗？可怜呵，我们的泉水不在这里供你解渴。”
“那边还是那个天空，”她说，“只是不受屏山的遮隔，——也还是那股流泉长成江河，——也还是那片土地伸广变成平原。”“一切都有了，”我叹息说，“只有我们不在。”她含愁地笑着说：“你们是在我的心里。”我醒来听见泉流潺潺，杉树的叶子在夜中沙沙地响着。
She dwelt on the hillside by the edge of a maize-feld， near the spring that fows in laughing rills through the solemn shadows of ancient trees. The women came there to fll their jars， and travellers would sit there to rest and talk.She worked and dreamed daily to the tune of the bubbling stream.
One evening the stranger came down from the cloud-hidden peak； his locks were tangled like drowsy snakes. We asked in wonder， "Who are you？"He answered not but sat by the garrulous stream and silently gazed at the hut where she dwelt.Our hearts quaked in fear and we came back home when it was night.
Next morning when the women came to fetch water at the spring by the deodar trees， they found the doors open in her hut， but her voice was gone and where was her smiling face？
The empty jar lay on the floor and her lamp had burnt itself our in the corner. No one knew where she had fed to before it was morning— and the stranger had gone.
In the month of May the sun grew strong and the snow melted， and we sat by the spring and wept. We wondered in our mind， "Is there a spring in the land where she has gone and where she can fill her vessel in these hot thirsty days？" And we asked each other in dismay， "Is there a land beyond these hills where we live？"
It was a summer night； the breeze blew from the south； and I sat in her deserted room where the lamp stood still unlit. When suddenly from before my eyes the hills vanished like curtains drawn aside."Ah， it is she who comes.How are you， my child？Are you happy？But where can you shelter under this open sky？And， alas， our spring is not here to allay your thirst."
"Here is the same sky，" she said， "only free from the fencing hills，——this is the same stream grown into a plain." "Everything is here，" I sighed， "only we are not."She smiled sadly and said， "You are in my heart."I woke up and heard the babbling of the stream and the rustling of the deodars at night.
84
黄绿的稻田上掠过秋云的阴影，后面是狂追的太阳。
蜜蜂被光明所陶醉，忘了吸蜜，只痴呆地飞翔嗡唱。
河里岛上的鸭群，无缘无故的欢乐地吵闹。
我们都不回家吧，兄弟们，今天早晨我们都不去工作。
让我们以狂风暴雨之势占领青天，让我们飞奔着抢夺空间吧。
笑声漂浮在空气上，像洪水上的泡沫。
兄弟们，让我们把清晨浪费在无用的歌曲上面吧。
Over the green and yellow rice-felds sweep the shadows of the autumn clouds followed by the swift-chasing sun.
The bees forget to sip their honey； drunken with light they foolishly hover and hum.
The ducks in the islands of the river clamour in joy for mere nothing.
Let none go back home， brothers， this morning， let none go to work.
Let us take the blue sky by storm and plunder space as we run.
Laughter foats in the air like foam on the food.
Brothers， let us squander our morning in futile songs.
85
你是什么人，读者，百年后读着我的诗？
我不能从春天的财富里送你一朵花，天边的云彩里送你一片金影。
开起门来四望吧。
从你群花盛开的园子里，采取百年前消逝了的花儿的芬芳记忆。
在你心的欢乐里，愿我感到一个春晨吟唱的活的欢乐，把它快乐的声音，传过一百年的时间。
Who are you， reader， reading my poems an hundred years hence？
I cannot send you one single fower from this wealth of the spring， one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.
Open your doors and look abroad.
From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished fowers of an hundred years before.
In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning， sending its glad voice across an hundred years.