常常地,心能涌泉,口卻干渴。多搬動一塊石頭﹐多掘一鍬土,水便在盈盈之處,水便晃動在杯中。端起杯子,飲得動水﹐是多少還得費點體力﹑費點心智的工作。
父親晚年,我給他悄悄地拍過一張照。他正走去﹐長衣長褲,襯衫上套着一件多年了的毛線背心,瘦骨嶙嶙﹐手拄一根枴杖﹐背上有着告別了冬天的陽光﹐一雙我母亲衬出的布鞋踩着前行的執着。我從沒想過他會停下腳步。以後﹐我常用自己的眼睛﹐看着父親注視着的那個前方﹐世界消逝得沒那麼快﹐它依然維繫著我變遷著的靈魂。
父親晚年,我給他悄悄地拍過一張照。他正走去﹐長衣長褲,襯衫上套着一件多年了的毛線背心,瘦骨嶙嶙﹐手拄一根枴杖﹐背上有着告別了冬天的陽光﹐一雙我母亲衬出的布鞋踩着前行的執着。我從沒想過他會停下腳步。以後﹐我常用自己的眼睛﹐看着父親注視着的那個前方﹐世界消逝得沒那麼快﹐它依然維繫著我變遷著的靈魂。
The east muse
Often we see that a heart could gush a spring but the mouth cried drying. Moving away one more piece of stone and dug in one more shovel of soil, then the water ripples of a font would be seen right over there and your cup would be fully pouring with the lovely water. Even at that stage, to pick up a cup of water and test the water with your own tongue still is not only a piece of mental work left. Saying: testing the water also testing the flowing of our human’s souls.
In my father’ latest year I had taken a photo for him without informing him. He was walking forwards, dressed long trouser and shirts which covered wool vest which already worn out as I remembered, he scrawny, holding a stick and, winter sun shining on his back, a pair of shoes which were made by my mother on his feet kept going. I never thought one day my father would stop his paces so soon. Very often I watch the direction that my father usually watched, the world as my father knew still there, steadily, little changed, as my lucid destiny and my spiritual home.
译者：明哲书屋
