54

I ASKED nothing from thee; I uttered not my name to thine ear. When thou took’st thy leave I stood silent. I was alone by the well where the shadow of the tree fell aslant, and the women had gone home with their brown earthen pitchers full to the brim. They called me and shouted, “Come with us, the morning is wearing on to noon.” But I languidly lingered awhile lost in the midst of vague musings.

I heard not thy steps as thou camest. Thine eyes were sad when they fell on me; thy voice was tired as thou spokest low—“Ah, I am a thirsty traveller.” I started up from my day-dreams and poured water from my jar on thy joined palms. The leaves rustled overhead; the cuckoo sang from the unseen dark, and perfume of babla flowers came from the bend of the road.

I stood speechless with shame when my name thou didst ask. Indeed, what had I done for thee to keep me in remembrance? But the memory that I could give water to thee to allay thy thirst will cling to my heart and enfold it in sweetness. The morning hour is late, the bird sings in weary notes, neem leaves rustle overhead and I sit and think and think.

54

我不向你求什么；我不向你耳中陈述我的名字。

当你离开的时候我静默地站着。

我独立在树影横斜的井旁，

女人们已顶着褐色的瓦罐盛满了水回家了。

她们叫我说：“和我们一块来吧，都快到中午了。”

但我仍在慵倦地流连，沉入恍惚的默想之中。

你走来时我没有听到你的足音。

你含愁的眼望着我；

你低语的时候声音是倦乏的——

“啊，我是一个干渴的旅客。”

我从幻梦中惊起，把我罐里的水倒在你掬着的手掌里。

树叶在头上萧萧地响着；

杜鹃在幽暗处歌唱，曲径里传来胶树的花香。

当你问到我的名字的时候，我羞得悄立无言。

真的，我替你做了什么，值得你的忆念？

但是我幸能给你饮水止渴的这段回忆，

将温馨地贴抱在我的心上。

天已不早，鸟儿唱着倦歌。

楝树叶子在头上沙沙作响，我坐着反复地想了又想。