漂浮

樊功生

湖面上

一根木头平躺着

虽是一汪死水

不时也有些波动

木头跟着来回漂浮

有时打个圈圈

木头上有些青苔

冒出短短的小芽

偶尔一只小雀落在上面

唧喳几声

寂寞中带来一点生气

木头感到自在

但又稍稍伤感

没有一个根

和生存的理由

漂来漂去

总是在被摆布... 

看着水下

很多木头沉在湖底

它们已经发黑了

渗透了水份

沾满着泥污

重得像块锈铁

半埋着

不动了

安祥了

那是自己的归宿？

他又仰望着天空

几片云值得羡慕

高雅 纯白

他正想唱歌

白云打断了他

-- 我其实跟你一样样

风让我去哪就只好去哪

哪天沉重了

变黑了

就会坠落下来

洒向地面

流入污水沟... 

谁知道

幸运的话

可能来到你的小湖... 

-- 那太好了  

等着你... 

Drift 

By Ken Fan 

On the lake, 

A log is lying flat. 

There're some ripples there, 

Despite being a still water,

Moving the log back and forth,

Occasionally causing it to circle around. 

Amid those moss on the log, 

There appear sporadic sprouts. 

Every now and then, 

Little birds make a landing with some chirpy noises, 

And create a liveliness to this perpetual boredom. 

The log feels at ease, 

Albeit with a touch of melancholy:

Just drifting around, 

Without any roots and purposes, 

Always at the mercy of others... 

Down below, 

Other logs already sunk to the bottom. 

They are darkened, 

And soaked with water, and mud. 

Iron-like heavy,

Partially buried, 

Motionless, 

Dormant. 

-- Is it where I belong? 

The Log looks upward at sky,

Those clouds catch his attention,

So white and noble.

Just when he feels like singing, 

A cloud interrupts him:

-- I'm in the same situation as you're. 

I go wherever the wind pushes me to.

Someday I will fall down 

when becoming dark'n weighty, 

Splashing all over the ground,

And down to the drain.

Who knows,

I may get lucky 

and flow into your lake... 

-- That would be so wonderful,

I'll be here waiting...