You would call, "Baby, where are you?" and I should laugh to myself and keep quite quiet. 你要是叫道:“孩子,你在哪里呀?”我暗暗地在那里匿笑,卻一聲兒不響。
I should slyly open my petals and watch you at your work. 我要悄悄地開放花瓣兒,看著你工作。
When after your bath, with wet hair spread on your shoulders, you walked through the shadow of the champa tree to the little court where you say your prayers, you would notice the scent of the flower, but not know that it came from me. 當你沐浴后,濕發(fā)披在兩肩,穿過金色花的林蔭,走到你做禱告的小庭院時,你會嗅到這花的香氣,卻不知道這香氣是從我身上來的。
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. 當你吃過中飯,坐在窗前讀《羅摩衍那》,那棵樹的陰影落在你的頭發(fā)與膝上時,我便要投我的小小的影子在你的書頁上,正投在你所讀的地方。
But would you guess that it was the tiny shadow of your little child? 但是你會猜得出這就是你的小孩子的小影子么?
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. 當你黃昏時拿了燈到牛棚里去,我便要突然地再落到地上來,又成了你的孩子,求你講個故事給我聽。
"Where have you been, you naughty child?" “你到哪里去了,你這壞孩子?”
"I won't tell you, mother." That's what you and I would say then. “我不告訴你,媽媽。”這就是你同我那時所要說的話了。