Whoever now weeps somewhere in the world， weeps without reason in the world，weeps over me.
Whoever now laughs somewhere in the night， laughs without reason in the night，laughs at me.
Whoever now wanders somewhere in the world， wanders without reason out in the world， wanders toward me.
Whoever now dies somewhere in the world， dies without reason in the world，looks at me.
62
The Panther
豹子
His vision， from the constantly passing bars. has grown so weary， that it cannot hold anything else. It seems to him there area thousand bars， and behind the hats， no world，As he paces in cramped circles， over and over， the movement of his powerful soft stridesis like a ritual dance around a center in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.
Only at times， the curtain of the pupils lifts， quietly. An image enters in.
rushes down through the tense， arrested muscles， plunges into the heart and is gone.
63
If By Life You Were Deceived
假如生活欺骗了你
If by life you were deceived， Don’t be dismal， don’t be wild！ In the day of grief， be mild？ Merry days will come， believe.
Heart is living in tomorrow； Present is dejected here；In a moment， passes sorrow； That which passes will be dear.
64
Song Of the Wave
组歌（节选）
The strong shore is my beloved And I am his sweetheart.
We are at last united by love，And then the moon draws me from him. I go to him in haste and depart Reluctantly， with many little farewells.
I steal swiftly from behind the blue horizon，To cast the silver of my foam upon the gold of his sand， And we blend in melted brilliance.
I quench his thirst and submerge his heart； He softens my voice and subdues my temper.
At dawn I recite the rules of love upon his ears， And he embraces me longingly.
At eventide I sing to him the song of hope， And then print smooth kisses upon his face；I am swift and fearful， but he is quiet， patient， and thoughtful. His broad bosom soothes my restlessness.
As the tide comes we caress each other，When it withdraws， I drop to his feet in prayer.
Many times have I danced around mermaids As they rose from the depthsAnd rested upon my crest to watch the stars；Many times have I heard lovers complain of their smallness， And I helped them to sigh.
Many times have I teased the great rocks And fondled them with a smile，But never have I received laughter from them； Many times have I lifted drowning soulsAnd carried them tenderly to my beloved shore. He gives them strength as he takes mine.
Many times have I stolen gems from the depths And presented them to my beloved shore.
He takes them in silence，But still I give for he welcomes me ever.
In the heaviness of night，When all creatures seek the ghost of slumber，I sit up， singing at one time and sighing at another. I am awake always.
Alas！ Sleeplessness has weakened me！
But I am a lover， and the truth of love is strong. I may be weary， but I shall never die.
SONG OF THE RAIN
I am dotted silver threads dropped from heaven by the gods. Nature then takes me， to adorn her fields and valleys.
I am beautiful pearls，Plucked from the crown of Ishtar by the daughter of Dawn to embellish the gardens.
When I cry the hills laugh；
When I humble myself the flowers rejoice； When I bow， all things are elated.
The field and the cloud are lovers.
And between them I am a messenger of mercy. I quench the thirst of one；I cure the ailment of the other.
The voice of thunder declares my arrival； The rainbow announces my departure.
I am like earthly life，Which begins at the feet of the mad elements And ends under the upraised wings of death.
I emerge from the heard of the sea Soar with the breeze.
When I see a field in need，I descend and embrace the flowers and the trees in a million little ways.
I touch gently at the windows with my soft fingers，And my announcement is a welcome song all can hear But only the sensitive can understand.
The heat in the air gives birth to me， But in turn I kill it，As woman overcomes man with the strength she takes from him.
I am the sigh of the sea； The laughter of the field； The tears of heaven.
So with love—
Sighs from the deep sea of affection；
Laughter from the colourful field of the spirit； Tears from the endless heaven of memories.
65
The Champa Flower
金色花
Supposing I became a charnpa flower， just for fun， and grew on a branch high up that tree， and shook in the wind with laughter and danced upon the newly budded leaves， would you know me， mother？
You would call， “Baby， where are you？” and I should laugh to myself and keep quite quiet.
I should slyly open my petals and watch you at your work.
When after your bath， with wet hair spread on your shoulders， you walked through the shadow of the champa tree to the Iittle court where you say your prayers， you would notice the scent of the flower， but not know that it came from me.
When after the midday meal you sat at the window reading.
Ramayana， and the tree’s shadow fell over your hair and your lap， I should fling my wee little shadow on to the page of your book， just where you were reading.
But would you guess that it was the tiny shadow of your little child？
When in the evening you went to the cow-shed with the lighted lamp in your hand， I should suddenly drop on to the earth again and be your own baby once more， and beg you to tell me a story.
“Where have you been， you naughty child？”
“I won’t tell you， mother.” That’s what you and I would say then.
