The Crescent Moon 12: Playthings

Playthings

Child, how happy you are, sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning.
I smile at your play with a little bit of broken twig.
I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour.
Perhaps you glance at me and think, “What a stupid game to spoil your morning with!”
Child I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sticks and mud-pies.
I seek out costly playthings and gather lumps of gold and silver.
With whatever you find you create your glad games. I spend both my time and my strength over things I never can obtain.
In my frail canoe I struggled across a sea of desire, and forgot that I too am playing the game.

Original author: Rabindranath Tagore.

玩具

孩子，你真是快活呀, 一早晨坐在泥土里，玩着折下来的小树枝儿。
我微笑地看着你在那里玩着那根折下来的小树枝儿。
我正忙着算账，一小时一小时地在那里叠加数字。
也许你在看我，想到: “这种好没趣的游戏竟把你的一早晨的好时间浪费掉了.”
孩子，我忘了聚精会神玩耍树枝和泥饼的方法了。
我寻求贵重的玩具，收集金块和银块。
你呢，无论找到什么，便去做你快乐的游戏。我呢，却把我的时间与力气都浪费在那些我永不能得到的东西上。
我在我脆薄的独木船里挣扎着，要渡过欲望之海，竟忘了我也是在那里做游戏了。

原作者：Rabindranath Tagore。中文译者：郑振铎。