泰戈尔的诗：
Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away.
And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sign.
On troupe of little vagrants of the world, leave your footprints in my words.
The world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover.
It becomes small as one song, as one kiss of the eternal.
The mighty desert is burning for the love of a blade of grass who shakes her head and laughs and flies away.
The sands in your way beg for your song and your movement, dancing water.
Will you carry the burden of their lameness?
What language is thine, O sea?
The language of eternal question.
What language is thy answer, O sky?
The language of eternal silence.
The mystery of creation is like the darkness of night—it is great.
Delusions of knowledge are like the fog of the morning.
......