IN the world's audience hall, the simple blade of grass sits on the same carpet with the sunbeam and the stars of midnight.
Thus my songs share their seats in the heart of the world with the music of the clouds and forests.
But, you man of riches, your wealth has no part in the simple grandeur of the sun's glad gold and the mellow gleam of the musing moon.
The blessing of the all-embracing sky is not shed upon it.
And when death appears, it pales and withers and crumbles into dust.
在世界的謁見堂里,一根樸素的草葉,
和陽光與夜半的星辰坐在
同一條氈褥上。
我的詩歌,也這樣地和云彩與森林的音樂,
在世界的心中平分席次。
但是,你這富有的人,你的財富,
在太陽的喜悅的金光和沉思的月亮的柔光這種單純的光彩里,
卻占不了一份。
包羅萬象的天空的祝福,沒有灑在它的上面。
等到死亡出現(xiàn)的時候,它就蒼白枯萎,碎成塵土了。