１６８
　　　 压迫着我的，到底是我的想要外出的灵魂呢，还是那世界的灵魂，敲着我心的门，想要进来呢？
　　 that which oppresses me, is it my soul trying to come out in the open,
　　 or the soul of the world knocking at my heart for its entrance?

１６９
　　　 思想以他自己的语言喂养它自己而成长起来了。
　　 thought feeds itself with its own words and grows.

１７０
　　　 我把我心之碗轻轻浸入这沉默之时刻中，它盛满了爱了。
　　 i have dipped the vessel of my heart into this silent hour; it has
　　 filled with love.

１７１
　　　 或者你在工作，或者你没有。
　　　 当你不得不说：“让我们做些事吧”时，那末就要开始胡闹了。
　　 either you have work or you have not.
　　 when you have to say, "let us do something", then begins mischief.

１７２
　　　 向日葵羞于把无名的花朵看作它的同胞。
　　　 太阳升上来了，向它微笑，说道：“你好么，我的宝贝儿？”
　　 the sunflower blushed to own the nameless flower as her kin.
　　 the sun rose and smiled on it, saying, "are you well, my darling?"

１７３
　　　 “谁如命运似的催着我向前走呢？”
　　　 “那是我自己，在身背后大跨步走着。”who drives me forward like fate?the myself striding on my back.

１７４
　　　 云把水倒在河的水杯里，它们自己却藏在远山之中。
　　 the clouds fill the watercups of the river, hiding themselves in
　　 the distant hills.

１７５
　　　 我一路走去，从我的水瓶中漏出水来。
　　　 只剩下极少极少的水供我回家使用了。
　　 i spill water from my water jar as i walk on my way,
　　 very little remains for my home.

１７６
　　　 杯中的水是光辉的；海中的水却是黑色的。
　　　 小理可以用文字来说清楚，大理却只有沉末。
　　 the water in a vessel is sparkling; the water in the sea is dark.
　　 the small truth has words that are clear; the great truth has great
　　 silence.

１７７
　　　 你的微笑是你自己田园里的花，你的谈吐是你自己山上的松林的萧萧；但是你的心呀，却是那个女人，那个我们全都认识的女人。
　　 your smile was the flowers of your own fields, your talk was the rustle
　　 of your own mountain pines, but your heart was the woman that we all know.

１７８
　　　 我把小小的礼物留给我所爱的人，－－大的礼物却留给一切的人。心的门，想要进来呢？
　　 it is the little things that i leave behind for my loved ones,
　　 ---great things are for everyone.

１７９
　　　 妇人呀，你用泪海包绕着世界的心，正如大海包绕着大地。
　　 woman, thou hast encircled the world s heart with the depth of thy
　　 tears as the sea has the earth.

１８０
　　　 太阳以微笑向我问候。
　　　 雨，他的忧闷的姐姐，向我的心谈话。
　　 the sunshine greets me with a smile.
　　 the rain, his sad sister, talks to my heart.

１８１
　　　 我的昼间之花，落下它那被遗忘的花瓣。
　　　 在黄昏中，这花成熟为一颗记忆的金果。
　　 my flower of the day dropped its petals forgotten.
　　 in the evening it ripens into a golden fruit of memory.

１８２
　　　 我象那夜间之路，正静悄悄地谛听着记忆的足音。
　　 i am like the road in the night listening to the footfalls of its
　　 memories in silence.