Tagore : Say goodbye
It’s time for me to go, Mom, I am leaving.
When the dawn of silence, you stretch out your arms in secret, to hold the child you sleep on the bed, I want to say: "The child is not there!" - Mom, I am gone.
I want to become a breeze to cares for you; I want to become a ripple of water, kiss and kiss you when you bathe.
On a windy night, when the raindrops are plunging in the leaves, you will hear my whispers in the bed. When the electric light flashes into your room from the open window, my laughter also smashes it together. .
If you are awake in bed and want your child to go to the middle of the night, I will sing to you from the stars: "Sleep! Mom, sleep."
I am going to sit on the moonlight that wanders around and sneak into your bed, lying on your chest as you fall asleep.
I want to become a dream, from the micro slits of your eyelids, to the depths of your sleep. When you woke up and looked around in surprise, I flew to the dark like a shining firefly.
When the Puye Festival 1, when the children of the neighbors came to the house to play, I would melt in the flute, and the price of the whole day would fluctuate in your heart.
Dear Auntie brought Puyele 2 and asked, "Where is our child, eh?" Mom, you will tell her softly: "He, he is now in my cousin, he is now It is in my body, in my soul."