罗宾德拉纳德·泰戈尔/Rabindranath Tagore
Hands cling to hands and eyes linger on eyes: thus begins the record of our hearts.
It is the moonlight night of March；the sweet smell of henna is in the air；my flute lies on the earth neglected and your garland of flowers is unfinished.
This love between you and me is simple as a song.
Your veil of the saffron colour makes my eyes drunk.
The jasmine wreath that you wove me thrills to my heart like praise.
It is a game of giving and withholding, revealing and screening again；some smiles and some little shyness, and some sweet useless struggles.
This love between you and me is simple as a song.
No mystery beyond the present；no striving for the impossible；no shadow behind the charm；no groping in the depth of the dark.
This love between you and me is simple as a song.
We do not stray out of all words into the ever silent；we do not raise our hands to the void for things beyond hope.
It is enough what we give and we get.
We have not crushed the joy to the utmost to wring from it the wine of pain.
This love between you and me is simple as a song.
手牵着手，眼望着眼：就这样开始了我们的心路历程。
那是三月一个洒满月光的夜晚；空气中飘着散沫花香甜的气息；我的长笛孤零零地躺在泥土中，你的花环也没有编好。
你我之间的爱单纯得像一支歌。
橘黄色的面纱迷醉了我的双眼。
你编织的茉莉花环像一种荣耀，震撼了我的心。
这是一个给予与保留，忽隐忽现的游戏；有些微笑，有些娇羞，还有些甜蜜的无谓的挣扎。
你我之间的爱单纯得像一支歌。
没有视线之外的神秘，没有可能之外的强求，没有魅力背后的阴影，没有黑暗深处的探索。
你我之间的爱单纯得像一支歌。
我们没有偏离出语言的轨道，陷入永恒的沉默；我们没有举起手，向希望之外的空虚奢求。