THE CHAMPA FLOWER

THE CHAMPA FLOWER

Supposing I became a champa flower,
just for fun,
and grew on a branch high up that tree,
and shook in the wind with laughter and danced upon the newly budded leaves,
would you know me, mother?
You would call, "Baby, where are you?"
and I should laugh to myself and keep quite quiet.
I should slyly open my petals and watch you at your work.

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.

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.
But would you guess that it was the tiny shadow of your little child?

When in the evening you went to the cowshed 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.
"Where have you been, you naughty child?"
"I won't tell you, mother."
That's what you and I would say then.

金色花

如果我变成了一朵金色花，
仅仅为了好玩，
长在那高高的枝头，
笑着摇曳在风中，
又舞动在新生的叶上，
妈妈，你会认得我吗？
你若是叫道：“宝贝儿，你在哪儿？”
我偷偷的笑，不发出一点声音。
我会静静的绽放花瓣，看着你工作。

当你沐浴完毕，
湿湿的头发散在两肩，
穿过金色花的树影，
走到你做祷告的小庭院时，
你会闻到这花儿的香气，
却不知这香气是从我身上散发出来的。

当午饭后，
你坐在窗前读《罗摩衍那》，
那棵树的阴影落到你的头发与膝盖之间，
我会在你的书页上，
就在你正读着的地方投下我的稚影，
可是你会猜到这就是你的小孩的稚影吗？

当黄昏时，
你拿着灯去牛棚，
于是，我突然又落到地上，
再变成你的孩子，
要你讲个故事给我听。
“你去哪儿了，你这淘气的孩子？”
“我不告诉你，妈妈。”
这便是我和你要说的话。