羅賓德拉納德·泰戈爾/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.
手牽著手，眼望著眼：就這樣開始了我們的心路曆程。
那是三月一個灑滿月光的夜晚；空氣中飄著散沫花香甜的氣息；我的長笛孤零零地躺在泥土中，你的花環也沒有編好。
你我之間的愛單純得像一支歌。
橘黃色的麵紗迷醉了我的雙眼。
你編織的茉莉花環像一種榮耀，震撼了我的心。
這是一個給予與保留，忽隱忽現的遊戲；有些微笑，有些嬌羞，還有些甜蜜的無謂的掙紮。
你我之間的愛單純得像一支歌。
沒有視線之外的神秘，沒有可能之外的強求，沒有魅力背後的陰影，沒有黑暗深處的探索。
你我之間的愛單純得像一支歌。
我們沒有偏離出語言的軌道，陷入永恒的沉默；我們沒有舉起手，向希望之外的空虛奢求。