2012年左右在大陸網站書寫了兩篇英文小品,
整理網頁時, 覺得扔掉可惜, 就讓它回家.
另外一篇應該是無意中刪除掉了,
當時或許想著一個多小時的琢磨就可以創新,
也就不必在乎. 如今的感覺似乎不太一樣,
因為它們象徵著一段生命的記錄,
是心情的流露, 更是感情的寄托.
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Once upon a time it rained heavily.
Many times I intended to close door
to give the story an end while,
no more the girl shamefaced and frangible,
acting like a stubborn man
without giving chance of negotiations,
as a testing site of love
you turn out to determinedly spread
the screenplay into a foggy swamp
where both of us have sunk down a hole
so deep that I can't pull either of us out.
While the clouds are low and the air is dark,
as used to be you get stuck there not far away
possibly thinking about how to
give mother a story to uncover the adventure,
but I need to fool around games you set up
to wipe out shadows created by themselves
which might swallow the faith in love of
my little cute who was carried to me
and has recognized my door as her home
by a mountain-high wave created after
a heavy rain once upon a time,
so far to convince myself for leaving door open
and lights on for you to find a way home.
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