新月集 作者:泰戈尔
The Crescent Moon By Rabindranath Tagore 英文 中文 双语对照 双语交替 首页 目录 上一章 下一章 | |
31.THE HERO
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MOTHER, let us imagine we are travelling, and passing through a strange and dangerous country.
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You are riding in a palanquin and I am trotting by you on a red horse.
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It is evening and the sun goes down. The waste of Joradighi lies wan and grey before us. The land is desolate and barren.
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You are frightened and thinking--"I know not where we have come to."
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I say to you, "Mother, do not be afraid."
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The meadow is prickly with spiky grass, and through it runs a narrow broken path.
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There are no cattle to be seen in the wide field; they have gone to their village stalls.
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It grows dark and dim on the land and sky, and we cannot tell where we are going.
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Suddenly you call me and ask me in a whisper, "What light is that near the bank?"
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Just then there bursts out a fearful yell, and figures come running towards us.
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You sit crouched in your palanquin and repeat the names of the gods in prayer.
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The bearers, shaking in terror, hide themselves in the thorny bush.
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I shout to you, "Don't be afraid, mother. I am here."
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With long sticks in their hands and hair all wild about their heads, they come nearer and nearer.
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I shout, "Have a care! you villains! One step more and you are dead men."
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They give another terrible yell and rush forward.
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You clutch my hand and say, "Dear boy, for heaven's sake, keep away from them."
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I say, "Mother, just you watch me."
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Then I spur my horse for a wild gallop, and my sword and buckler clash against each other.
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The fight becomes so fearful, mother, that it would give you a cold shudder could you see it from your palanquin.
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Many of them fly, and a great number are cut to pieces.
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I know you are thinking, sitting all by yourself, that your boy must be dead by this time.
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But I come to you all stained with blood, and say, "Mother, the fight is over now."
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You come out and kiss me, pressing me to your heart, and you say to yourself,
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"I don't know what I should do if I hadn't my boy to escort me."
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A thousand useless things happen day after day, and why couldn't such a thing come true by chance?
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It would be like a story in a book.
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My brother would say, "Is it possible? I always thought he was so delicate!"
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Our village people would all say in amazement, "Was it not lucky that the boy was with his mother?"
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