那条河轻轻流过我的家乡，

潺潺的浪花涌向远方。

那条狗在艰难的岁月里陪伴了父亲和我。

母亲的背影变得越来越小。

吵闹的麻雀忙着在枝桠上筑巢。

熟人三三两两的在街上徘徊。

 

古老的橡树插满了新芽。

我的母亲去哪里了？

这个问题没有被问出，

但是保留在我的记忆里。

夜晚被拉长，扭曲。

 

蝉子贴着树枝，

在有月光的夜晚嗡嗡叫。

摩托车的噪音吵着了熟睡的人和警惕的土狗。

让人不安的深夜谈话在记忆之中朦朦脓脓。

 

有的蜻蜓在飞，有的蜻蜓藏在睡莲从中。

细长的茎，粉红的花瓣，嫩嫩的花蕊

在古老的画中收聚。

弥漫的香气在下着小雨的天变得更浓。

在唐代的古诗里，

睡莲叶上的露水和一个妃子的泪水是同等重的。

宫灯的响声在长长的弄巷里回荡。

 

吵闹的蝉最后也睡着了。

鸡鸣吵醒了熟睡的人。

老年人总是最先醒来的，

然后是小孩子。

 

母亲重新出现在我的记忆里。

她红色的汗衫浸透了咸咸的汗水。

她转过头来检查我是不是在哭。

她满面红光， 身材短小精干。

她的背结结实实；她的手忙忙碌碌。

 

青苔在阴郁的季节里铺张开来。

青蛙直到深夜还在鸣叫。

时间到了离开父亲母亲上幼儿园的时候了。

 

不从众和羞涩把这个孩子和其他孩子们分开。

这个孩子的挣扎来自早熟和成熟。

 

宁静和蓬发的期待在雾天里生根。

村民被不适时的公鸡叫声轻轻惹怒。

无辜的公鸡只是为了叫醒有职务的人们！

背上沉重瓢虫图案的书包,

小孩着着急急得往学校赶。

 

*

 

The river gently flew cross my hometown,

the murmuring waves running afar.

The dog accompanied my father and me in the poignant years.

The image of my mother’s back grew smaller and smaller.

The chirping magpies were busy

with setting up nests at conjunctions of twigs.

The acquaintances haunted the street in twos and threes.

 

The ancient Chinese locust tree was studded with buds.

Where was my mother?

The question was unasked,

but stayed in my mind.

The evening was stretched and twisted.

 

The cicadas were clinging to the branches，

droning in the moonlit night.

The noise of motorcycles irritated the slumber and the alert terrier dogs.

The disturbance of some deep-night chatters unfurled in my memory.

 

The dragonflies flew and hid,

Among the sleepy water lilies.

Slender stems, pink petals, tender stamens,

came to life in the old paintings.

And the permeating fragrance consolidated in the sprinkle raining days.

In those ancient poems from Tang dynasty,

The weight of dew on the water lilies’ leaves was equal to a concubine’s tears.

The blaring of palace lanterns resonated across the alleys.

 

The noisy cicadas finally fell asleep.

The rooster interrupted the sweet dreams.

The elderly always woke up first,

The children next.

 

Mother reappeared in my memory.

Her red shirt was drenched in salty sweat.

She turned back and checked whether I was crying.

Her rosy cheek was glowing; her figure was tiny but vigorous.

Her back was sturdy; her hands were brimmed with doing things,

 

The lichen was spreading in the gloomy season.

The frogs were croaking till deep in the night.

The time had come to depart from mother and father for a pupil,

venturing into the kindergarten.

Nonconformity and timidity built the gap between the child and the peers.

Conflicts came between prematurity and maturity.

 

Tranquillity and blooming expectations rooted in the foggy days.

The villagers were slightly annoyed by the untimely roosters.

Innocent roosters were only waking up people with duties!

Carrying the burdensome backpack with the pattern of ladybugs,

the pupil rushed to the school.