1928年,《流萤集》**面世,它源于泰戈尔的中国与日本之行,这部诗集在形式和表现手法上受到了中国绝句和日本俳句的影响,与《飞鸟集》并称泰戈尔的短诗双璧。 在行程中,泰戈尔应邀“手书于扇面绢帛上”,因而《流萤集》短小隽永,意境唯美,常以大自然劲舞为载体表达他对宇宙、对人生的哲学思考,使人读后心灵得到休憩。

01 My fancies are fireflies,— Specks of living light twinkling in the dark. 我的幻想是流萤,—— 点点的生命之光 在黑暗中闪烁。 02 The voice of wayside pansies, that do not attract the careless glance, murmurs in these desultory lines. 路边紫罗兰的声音, 难以引来粗心人的顾盼, 却会在这些不经意的诗句中喃喃低语。 03 In the drowsy dark caves of the mind dreams build their nest with fragments dropped from day' s caravan. 在心灵昏昏欲睡的暗穴里 梦在筑巢 用从白天的大篷车上掉下来的断章。 04 Spring scatters the petals of flowers that are not for the fruits of the future, but for the moment' s whim. 春天撒下花瓣 不是为了未来的果实, 而是一时兴起。 05 Joy freed from the bond of earth' s slumber rushes into numberless leaves, and dances in the air for a day. 欢乐从尘世沉睡的束缚中解脱出来 冲进密密层层的叶子里, 在空中朝夕飞舞。 06 My words that are slight may lightly dance upon time' s waves when my works heavy with import have gone down. 当我的作品因意蕴深刻而流传下去时, 我的那些微不足道的话 可能会在时间的浪花上翩翩起舞。 07 Mind' s underground moths grow filmy wings and take a farewell flight in the sunset sky. 心灵里的飞蛾 长出薄薄的翅膀 在日落的天空中 做着道别的飞翔。 08 The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. 蝴蝶不计算月份, 而是计算瞬间, 所以有足够的时间。 09 My thoughts, like spark, ride on winged surprises, carrying a single laughter. 我的思想像火花, 乘着带翼的惊喜而去, 携着一丝笑声。 10 The tree gazes in love at its own beautiful shadow which yet it never can grasp. 树含情脉脉地凝视着 自己美丽的影子, 但永远抓不住它。 11 Let my love, like sunlight, surround you and yet give you illumined freedom. 让我的爱 如阳光般环绕你 并给予你 明亮的自由。 12 Days are coloured bubbles that float upon the surface of fathomless night. 白昼是彩色的泡泡 漂浮在深不可测的暗夜之上。 13 My offerings are too timid to claim your remembrance, and therefore you may remember them. 我的敬献太过胆怯, 无法唤起你的记忆, 而恰恰因为如此 你反而铭记。 14 Leave out my name from the gift if it be a burden, but keep my song. 把我的名字从礼物上删去 若这是一种负担, 请只保留我的歌。 15 April, like a child, writes hieroglyphs on dust with flowers, wipes them away and forgets. 四月像个孩子, 用花在尘土上写下图画文字, 然后又抹去,从此遗忘。 16 Memory, the priestess, kills the present and offers its heart to the shrine of the dead past. 回忆是女祭司, 扼杀当下 把它的心 献给逝去时光的神殿。 17 From the solemn gloom of the temple children run out to sit in the dust, God watches them play and forgets the priest. 从庄严幽暗的神殿中 孩子们跑出来 坐在尘土里, 上帝看着他们玩耍 一时忘了祭司。

流萤集 / 1 泰戈尔诗选 / 137